


The Silent Prince and the Appointed Knight

by withcameraandpen



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Mutual Pining, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withcameraandpen/pseuds/withcameraandpen
Summary: The only clues to Zelda's former life as appointed knight to Prince Link are twelve images memorialized in the Sheikah Slate. The images recorded the full course of their bond, from the initial friction between prince and knight, to the slow-to-bud trust and respect, and to the unshakable devotion to one another that allowed them to quell the Calamity. When the forces of deceit and distrust undermine Hyrule even before the resurrection of Ganon, can the trust between Zelda and Link save Hyrule from the ashes?
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 162





	1. Deceitful Ceremony

She knew nothing as she came to in an alien contraption and heard a quiet, desperate voice ringing in her ears. That voice propelled the woman out of the cave and back into an unfamiliar world, picking up scraps of clothing and makeshift weapons to fight her way across a barren plateau. She remembered precious little of who she was, other than her name given to her by that desperate voice: Zelda.

She knew a little more when she scaled the Temple of Time and the old man who had guided her on her journey revealed himself as King Rhoam Bosphoromous Hyrule. As he told the story of Hyrule Kingdom’s destruction, she felt a sour knot in her stomach and came to the conclusion that she, whoever she was before she came here, did not like the king. He seemed respectable and regretful enough, though anger tinged his words; maybe she could uncover more as she set off on her journey.

Then she reached Kakariko Village where she was greeted by the elderly, diminutive Impa, who gave her both her Champion’s Tunic and the message left behind by Prince Link: _Free the four Divine Beasts._ Impa also seemed regretful, but she also seemed to hope that now, at long last, Ganon could be sealed. “Prince Link has been fighting Ganon for one hundred years from within Hyrule Castle,” she said. “Like us, he has been eagerly awaiting your return.”

Impa also told her of locations she and Link had once visited together, which had been recorded into the Sheikah Slate. On the insistence of researchers who wanted to test the Slate in the field, Link had custody of it as they traveled and often used it to document his days. After a harrowing journey to Akkala and running errands for an even more diminutive Dr. Purah, she saw twelve images that, according to Purah and Impa, corresponded to Zelda’s previous life as the appointed knight and Hylian Champion.

Zelda remembered nothing, though Purah’s description of a grand gala held in a ball sounded vaguely familiar. When she finally set off on her quest to save Hyrule, Zelda turned the images over and over in her mind, aching to know what had transpired there and what secrets they held. She went by many names—Zelda, Champion, Knight—but Zelda hardly knew who she was.

_One Hundred Years Ago_

Zelda was a keen observer of her environment, especially of the way people moved through it. She was in a ballroom, a tremendous change of scene from what knights usually faced and found herself glad for it. Dignitaries draped in ceremonial robes from every race in Hyrule were sweeping across the dance floor. Members of their traveling caravans of nobles milled about the edges, scooping up the finest Hylian delicacies from tables lining the room. 

Zelda was rarely thrust into the spotlight in her work as a knight, but tonight she played one of the starring roles. She was an honored guest alongside the other Champions selected to lead the fight against Ganon, whose legend had leaped out of fairy tales and whose rise was now all but inevitable. She wore the Master Sword on her back, the glittering crown jewel of their fight against the darkness that attracted stares from all the attendees. Some were better starers than others: the Zoras sneaked quick looks over their shoulders while the Gorons gaped in open-mouthed awe at her. They were all depending on her to beat back disaster with that legendary sword. This party bookended the grave officiating of the Champions this morning, but one would hardly recognize these merrymakers as the subdued onlookers of earlier. Now they drank and danced and enjoyed the excesses of their nobility; this morning, they couldn’t shake their heavy pallor of dread and were looking to Zelda above all to ensure he didn’t rise. 

Well, not just her.

Prince Link hovered near an arched stained-glass window that bathed him in the glow of the setting sun, his keen eyes drifting, alert, across the party. Prince Link was many things, Zelda had come to learn in the few days since she’d arrived at the castle: he tended to prefer solitude as he conducted his spiritual training, often for hours upon hours every day; he was her charge, since Zelda was already well-prepared for the fight against Ganon and had time and expertise to devote to protecting him; and he rarely uttered a word to anyone, even his father.

A lot of people had words about the prince, though. The castle staff thought his silence indicated disdain and carelessness for his subordinates. The Champions were apprehensive at the prospect of being led by someone who had never seen conflict and who did not care to explain his decisions. What Zelda had realized in her time here was that the prince had a habit of disappearing into his spiritual training without telling a soul, which would be highly troubling for the person responsible for his safety. 

This party was the first time she would be able to speak to the prince without ceremony, pomp, or circumstance getting in the way. She snatched some scrumptious-looking treats from one of the silver trays swimming through the crowd and made a beeline for the prince in the window.

Their eyes met as she walked over, and he held her gaze until she drew right up to him. Many common folk would dart their eyes away after a few moments, and some nobility wouldn’t look at her at all, but his eyes seemed to pierce her and analyze her in the few seconds it took to cross the ballroom. Being so thoroughly studied unsettled her but she pushed through that apprehension; opening a line of communication with him was vital to her ability to protect him, whether he liked commoners or not.

She dropped to one knee and bowed her head. “Pardon my forwardness, Your Highness,” she said, lifting her hand and offering one of the desserts, “but this is your favorite, right?”

He was silent for a moment, and then the weight of the dessert disappeared from her hand. A quiet, measured voice said, “No need to bow.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” She rose to her feet and began partaking in the dessert. His eyes were locked on her, and the dessert sat on its little plate in his hand, untouched. “It is an honor and privilege to be your appointed knight, Your Highness.”

He said nothing and gave the smallest of nods. Those blue eyes remained trained on Zelda, watching her every move and waiting to see what would happen next. Even tucked away by this window out of sight of everyone else, he stood perfectly still and straight without a hair out of place. He was meticulous and quiet, and he seemed wary of her, too. That dessert she gave him sat untouched on his plate still, and though Zelda had only walked among the highest of society for a few days, she knew that if someone wasn’t eating in a place where food practically burst from the walls, it was because they were nervous about something.

He was nervous among fellow nobility at a celebration of the officiating of the Champions. Why would he be nervous in a place like this?

“It’s also an honor to wear this tunic, Your Highness,” she said, gesturing at the bright blue garment crafted by the young man before her. “It fits very well. May I ask where you learned your talent for tailoring?”

“A hobby I briefly entertained.”

 _Interesting._ Perhaps the reason the prince used so few words was because each one of them was packed with so much intrigue. 

Her curiosity sparked. Her insatiable curiosity had gotten her into so much trouble as a child, and even in adulthood it sometimes overrode the filters she’d crafted when addressing her superiors or even nobility. Having drawn the sword that seals the darkness was a blessing in that regard, too—it elevated her ranking to the skies.  
But not so high that she could casually address the _prince of Hyrule._

The prince made no move and uttered no word to break the silence. He was still quiet and still nervous, all prim and proper with nowhere to find relief. Maybe if she were not so nervous herself—but how could anyone not be nervous when faced with the person they were charged with protecting?

She had to start somewhere, so she nibbled the corner of the dessert and hummed with warm approval. “Your castle’s cooks have spoiled me since I arrived, but this is absolutely delicious, Your Highness. I understand why this is your favorite.”

His eyes narrowed. “How did you know it’s my favorite?”

They were making great progress. The best way to make more was to keep the momentum rolling. “I noticed your eyes followed that tray whenever it passed you. And something this good must be your favorite.”

A frown carved into his impassive expression. “You were watching me.”

That stopped her short. An apology already rose to her lips before she remembered that watching the prince constantly was now her only priority until the Calamity struck. “Yes, Your Highness. I was officially assigned to protect you this morning. Even now, I consider myself on duty.”

His scowl deepened and his eyes finally darted away from hers. Zelda had to hold back a sigh of relief. “How close will you follow me?”

His question was so odd that Zelda wondered if somehow the prince had lived his life solely within the castle walls, where guards lining the corridors became as natural a sight as a painting. “I will always be nearby, Your Highness. That was the vow I made when your father appointed me to your protection.”

“You’ll be bored.” He looked down at the dessert he still hadn’t touched and finally set it on the stone windowsill behind him. “My apologies for that, Zelda.”

Her stomach leaped when he said her name, though his words had plenty more to unpack. “I assure you, Your Highness, I will be ever vigilant in guarding you. I will not become distracted by boredom.”

“That’s not what I mean. My training requires solitude and silence.”

Ah, the infamous training regimen. She was grateful that he brought it up first. “I’ve heard of your dedication to your training, Your Highness. I admire it greatly.”

“You do?”

“Very much. Your Highness, may I speak plainly?”

He was retreating into himself again and gave her only a nod. She continued, “Earlier today, when we had our official Champion’s Ceremony, I was struck by your dignity and grace when reciting that blessing.” His words had been clipped then, too, but the blessing from time immemorial sounded grand and sweeping when he delivered it to the five of them. His voice was melancholy, too, but she didn’t mention it. “I confess, I was impressed with your capability. You’ll make a great king one day.”

His face changed so quickly it would have been comical if it had not been alarming. All of a sudden, he was equal parts doubtful and surprised, and his body had fallen out of its rigid perfection and became fluid and combative. He looked more natural, and consequently, much more vulnerable.

“Why?” he demanded.

“What do you mean?” Zelda grappled for words to string together, but this sudden change in the prince had caught her off guard.

“That was cruel. I don’t know what you heard, but don’t say that again.” He was fierce and unchained by his perfect etiquette; in fact, his voice was getting louder. “Who have you talked to? Who’s been spying on me?”

“I don’t understand, Your Highness!” she replied. “I meant it in all honesty!”

“You’re lying!”

“No, I’m _not!_ ”

The dance hall quieted faster than a snuffed candle. Zelda felt all eyes on her, and her voice suddenly sounded louder than the roar of a Lynel. She and the prince’s eyes were locked on each other, daring each other to break the stalemate, before the heavy footfalls of a tall, deep-chested man drew to a stop beside them.

Zelda surrendered the stalemate and knelt before King Rhoam. Only hours into her appointment, and she had already disappointed the king and upset the prince. What would her mother think of her now?

A thousand apologies crowded her mouth, but she knew better than to speak out of turn again. She waited for what seemed like hours before she heard King Rhoam say, “What did my son say to you, Zelda?”

Her eyes widened to a shameful degree, so she kept her face trained on the floor as she replied, “He accused me of lying to him, Your Majesty.”

“And were you?”

“I would never, Your Majesty.”

King Rhoam let out a deep sigh. “What is the meaning of this, Link?”

The prince uttered not a word. The silence in the room buried him, and she could see his booted feet go extremely, perfectly still. His façade was going up again, to shield him from the quizzical, disapproving, and downright chiding stares from the court.

“Your Majesty,” Zelda said, careful to keep her voice even and deep, “may I explain?”

“Please,” said the king. “And rise.”

She climbed to her feet and clasped her hands behind her back. “I believe what happened was a miscommunication. I spoke out of turn. This was the first time we met, yet as we found ourselves in deep conversation, I was struck by how similar we were. I slipped up and addressed him like an old friend.” 

King Rhoam raised a doubtful eyebrow. “You know each other that well already?”

She nodded behind her to the windowsill where her dessert plate sat. “Enough to know we share a favorite dessert, Your Majesty.”

The king frowned, and Zelda was struck with how closely his son resembled him when he frowned. “What were you arguing about?”

“Nothing,” said Prince Link, holding his head high. “It was childish bickering brought on by hard work. Zelda spent the day memorizing the perimeter of the castle; anyone would be irritable after that.” 

King Rhoam’s eyes flicked between them, doubtful and yet hopeful. “Very well.”

That was all he said. He turned around, signaled for the band to resume their playing, and stepped back onto the dance floor. And just like that, the festivities resumed, as though nothing had ever happened.

Zelda turned to the prince and opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “My apologies for losing my temper with you. Now I must go to continue my training.” 

She jumped to attention immediately. “No problem, Your Highness. I must go with you.”

“Don’t. I will be safe with the royal guard.” With another flash of his blue eyes, he swept away and left Zelda to control her jitters.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and leaned against the wall. Being confronted by the king and shouted at by the prince was a puzzling and tiring affair. Clearly, the prince was all but unreachable by most, but Zelda had managed to break through that tough shell and poke a sore spot with him. He very much resented her remark about his future kingship, even though it was the height of flattery if she did say so herself, and yet he lied to his father to save her hide.

Prince Link was an enigma. If she wanted to do her job properly, she had to break through his barriers and get him to trust her. How else was she going to be able to protect him? Not to mention that her curiosity was roaring to know the answer, but that was a base impulse that did not take precedence over the future of her kingdom. Still, that impulse had made her very good at finding answers that people wanted to keep to themselves. Zelda was confident that she could reach out to him still. She just needed to understand his language.


	2. Resolve and Grief

The next day was Zelda’s official start as the prince’s appointed knight, and she was determined to make up for her lapse in judgment the previous night. She would stick to the prince’s side no matter what he said and no matter how moody he got. She had a job to do, set to her by the king and by the Goddess herself, and she was going to do it well.

Still, Prince Link made it exceedingly difficult.

She spent the morning outside the prince’s door, posted up with her sword at the ready while he trained in the privacy of his chambers. She resisted her impulse to eavesdrop for the first hour, but then her curiosity got the better of her.

_Since he’s so incommunicative, I may as well try to learn what I can where I can,_ she told herself. _And the more I know about him, the better I can protect him. It’s for his own good._

Her ears strained for the whispers of the prince. She could hear his mumbles, low and indistinct, as well as the ruffling of pages and footsteps cushioned by a soft, thick rug. But most of his training was conducted in silence which tantalized Zelda’s curiosity something awful. What was he doing in there? How did those murmurs unlock the sacred sealing power that would vanquish Ganon?

Of course, that was a very optimistic way to look at things. When Zelda passed through Hyrule Castle Town on her way here, the residents had a very different picture.

_“Take some for the road,” insisted Cremia, pushing more bottles of milk toward Zelda. “You’re going to need all your strength in the coming days,”_

_“You’re very kind,” Zelda replied. “Your wares are greatly appreciated.”_

_“Thanks.” Cremia’s lips pursed and she perched her hand on her chin. “You got a lotta work ahead of you.”_

_She drained the last of her drink. “I assure you Hyrule is in safe hands.”_

_“Pardon my rudeness, but you’ve only been here a few hours, right?” Cremia replied. “If that’s the case, you know about as much about the fate of the world as we do.”_

_“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”_

_“Well, it’s just a rumor, but rumor is all we have to go on.” Cremia sighed, wiping down the countertop of her store. “We hear a lot about the Calamity, sure, but we don’t know a thing about what’s being done to fight it. We know about the Divine Beasts, but only because travelers bring us word. The king called for more soldiers and supplies, of course, but he doesn’t give us a thing in return.”_

_Their eyes met. “We found out about you a week ago. They stepped down from on high to tell us you’d be coming through—and that we were to provide you shelter should you need it.”_

_Zelda suddenly felt very out of place in the general store. The milk in her stomach sat heavily. “I’m sorry about that. You should have known earlier.”_

_Cremia shrugged. “There’s nothing you could do about it. I just wish we knew more about what was really happening. I’d certainly sleep easier at night, and I know I’m not the only one.” ___

__

__Prince Link appeared from his room around lunchtime, groomed and manicured and absolutely ambiguous. He gave a start when he glanced over and saw her standing there at his door. “What are you doing here?”_ _

__“Guarding you, Your Highness.” She stood a little straighter. Her heels clicked together. “It’s my duty.”_ _

__“All morning?”_ _

__“Yes, sir.”_ _

__A cloud passed over his face. “Then you’re hungry. Come with me.”_ _

__She was going to go with him anyway, but she merely nodded and strode alongside him through the castle. She was close to memorizing the floor plan of the entire castle, but she had the regular pathways—the routes to the throne room, the dining hall, the armory, and the prince’s chambers—down pat. The prince seemed lost in thought, casting looks at Zelda out of the corner of his eye. His posture crumbled a little, his shoulders hunching and the corners of his mouth pulling downward._ _

__Her curiosity superseded the chip on her shoulder. “Your Highness, is something the matter?”_ _

__He drew them to a stop. “I am deeply sorry about my behavior last night, Zelda,” he said, the words bursting out of him like an arrow flying from a bow. “I should not have lashed out at you the way I did. It was unbecoming of me.”_ _

__Her jaw fell open, and then she snapped it shut. It would not do to gape at the crown prince! “Your Highness, I am indebted to you for, if I may put it crassly, saving my hide.”_ _

__He chuckled, and the briefest of smiles flashed across his handsome face. “You owe me nothing. Least I could do after I got you in trouble.”_ _

__It was still more than most nobles would do for anyone. “Thank you, Your Highness.”_ _

__He smiled again, but this time it grew slowly, like the light streaking across the sky at dawn. In fact, light was a good way to describe that smile: it was quiet, but it was the first glimmer that pierced his perfect appearance. Since Zelda was now being frank, she considered that smile an improvement._ _

__So with a pair of smiles, they set off again for the dining hall. Zelda’s mind was churning away, desperate to understand the prince. He apologized fully and without excuse—which was very generous for anyone, much less a _prince_ , but the lack of excuse denied her insight into that mysterious mind. In a way, this was her ideal outcome; she was off the hook with the prince, and she was given a puzzle to solve._ _

__They arrived at the dining hall, where the king, the Champions, and the dignitaries were already halfway through their meal. “Nice of you to join us, Link,” said King Rhoam from the head of the table. “Good afternoon, Zelda. Please, sit.”_ _

__They parted ways, with Zelda going to join the Champions and Link heading for the seat beside his father. Two servants appeared from along the wall to pull out their chairs, and others materialized with a hearty stew and every manner of fruit and vegetable ripe for the taking. Zelda piled her plate high and ate eagerly; Prince Link took small, dainty bites._ _

__“Forgive our lateness, please,” said the prince. “I got wrapped up in training.”_ _

__King Rhoam nodded. “It is your training I wished to speak to you about.”_ _

__Zelda’s ears perked up. Was the king really going to discuss secrets of the trade at the table?_ _

__The prince apparently thought the same. “May this wait, Father?”_ _

__“No. I’m afraid it’s urgent.” The king gestured toward the far end of the table where a severe-looking dignitary sat. Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun and her eyes were narrowed to calculating slits. “Impa, the elder of the Sheikah tribe, has inquired after your progress. As you recall, her tribe are closely allied with our efforts to fight Ganon and have generously lent their intellect to our cause. Providing an update on your progress in good faith is the least we can do.”_ _

__The prince froze, staring up at the king. Froze was the right word for it; even from here Zelda could tell that he had gone utterly still. His eyes were not vacant, but he had retreated so deeply into his mind that he wouldn’t be able to speak unless someone relieved the pressure._ _

__“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” said Zelda. “I may be able to provide some clarity.”_ _

__All eyes turned to Zelda but she remained cool under their gaze. King Rhoam nodded, his brow furrowed. “Please.”_ _

__“I overheard bits and pieces of His Highness’s training this morning,” she said. “It seemed like business as usual. Complete concentration as he prayed.”_ _

__The king nodded again and then looked back at his son. “You can take some lessons from her. Obeying seems to come easily to her, eh?”_ _

__Zelda looked down at her meal to disguise the bad taste in her mouth._ _

__The prince’s voice came out shaky and meek. “Yes, Father.”_ _

__“Now, your knight’s assessment was a good help, but it is nowhere near as substantial as the Sheikah have asked. So I’ll ask again: how is your training going?”_ _

__“W-well.”_ _

__“What are you doing?”_ _

__“Studying.”_ _

__“Studying what?”_ _

__“If I may,” said Champion Urbosa, whose powerful stature was obvious even when seated. “The prince and I have been discussing the Seven Gerudo Goddesses in great detail. We have not put together the logistics yet, but we have plans to travel to the Gerudo Desert for him to pray at the Seven Goddess statues.”_ _

__“Is that so?” King Rhoam glared down the table at Urbosa, and then looked over at Impa. “Does this strike you as a decent use of the prince’s time?”_ _

__Impa’s face was impassive. Did anyone in this court know how to emote? “I admit I feel uneasy. I do not know what our Goddess will think of the prince praying to others. I do not want to jeopardize the prince’s birthright.”_ _

__Prince Link remained silent and seemingly determined not to speak at all. Could he tolerate the hands of others dictating his fate? She would speak up but she had already been shut down; all these others seemed to know the prince’s heart better than her. Perhaps she ought to stay out of it._ _

__She looked at Urbosa, who had been the only one to speak with the prince about his own desires. Perhaps she, as his knight, ought to be more proactive._ _

__“Impa,” she said, “do you know for sure?”_ _

__Impa frowned deeply at Zelda. “What?”_ _

__“Do you know for sure that our Goddess would do that?”_ _

__“Of course I do not know,” she snapped. “The Goddess works in mysterious ways. No one can divine what she or any of the gods intend.”_ _

__“Then if I may, Your Majesty,” said Zelda, turning to King Rhoam, “I really don’t think any of us have any business telling His Highness how to train.”_ _

__Impa’s brow furrowed deeply, her eyes narrowed to slits. Revali, the Rito Champion who seemed to think he was the most important fixture the room, chuckled. “Awfully self-important for someone who joined the fold _yesterday_ , don’t you think?”_ _

__Zelda’s fist clenched under the table, gripping the hem of her Champion’s Tunic. “I may be new, but I am no dullard.”_ _

__“That’s right.” Impa’s face relaxed. “She is one of the Goddess’ chosen as well. She has a unique insight into this matter.”_ _

__Revali balked. “She’s suddenly an authority on the Goddess just because she wields that sword?”_ _

__“On the contrary,” said Zelda, “I know I have no insight here. And to me, it seems that the only one at this table who has any would be the person who possesses her sacred power.”_ _

__“What are you saying, Zelda?” asked King Rhoam._ _

__“Your Majesty, I trust the prince’s judgment.” She tore her eyes from Prince Link’s and turned them on the king. “I believe he is the authority here. If he believes praying to the Seven Goddesses improves his understanding of our own Goddess, he should be free to explore it.”_ _

__Impa was regarding Zelda with a scowl on her face, though she couldn’t quite mask the interest there, too. Link was also looking at her, but with something closer to surprise. She threw him a bone. “Your Highness, how urgent is seeing the Seven Goddesses to your spiritual training?”_ _

__Link straightened up a fraction of an inch taller. “Extremely urgent. I fear I will be unable to properly wield the power without it.”_ _

__“I see no reason for further argument then.” King Rhoam eyed her. “I trust you are prepared for the Gerudo Desert climate, then, Champion Zelda.”_ _

__“What?” In the surprise at his outburst, no one but Zelda seemed to notice that Prince Link turned a piercing gaze on his father, but that paled in comparison with the king’s overbearing presence. “Why must Zelda come?”_ _

__“She is your appointed knight, Link,” said King Rhoam. “Of course she will be joining you.”_ _

__“She must remain here. If Calamity Ganon rises while I am training in the desert, the sword that seals the darkness must remain to defend the castle.”_ _

__“If Ganon rises,” King Rhoam said, his voice booming through the dining room, “then you, as the vessel of the Goddess’s power and the key to Ganon’s doom, will become his highest-priority target. The sword and the knight who carries it must remain at your side.”_ _

__“Don’t worry, Your Highness!” Mipha exclaimed. The Zora Champion Mipha seemed as timid as the prince, though she now seemed very eager to speak up and lend him aid. “The Divine Beasts will be on hand to defend Hyrule Castle. You needn’t worry.”_ _

__But Zelda knew there was something else at work here. As the prince returned to his food, eyes never lifting from his meal, she realized that there was a great deal at stake within the prince that made this battle far more personal. Of course, being the carrier of the goddess’ power and thus the only one able to vanquish Ganon, was always going to be personal but Zelda sensed a lot of anguish from him. Perhaps the prince’s insistence that Zelda remain behind was born from a worry for his father, though King Rhoam’s overbearing personality seemed to suggest otherwise._ _

__Zelda was still reeling by the time lunch was over (no one dared to talk through the rest of it). The prince’s previous apology and then immediate rejection of her company seemed strange, and yet not out of character for him. There was a logic here—there must be. He did not behave randomly and without reason; one behaved according to one’s own reasoning, and while that reasoning may appear backwards and twisted from the outside, it was reasoning all the same._ _

__She rose and made to follow after Prince Link after lunch, but King Rhoam said, “A word, Zelda.”_ _

__She went to his side, where they remained silent until the others filed out and left them alone. “You have had quite an eventful few days in Hyrule Castle,” he said with a warm smile. But she noticed a cold seriousness in his eyes that betrayed this small talk as mere sandpaper designed to smooth over whatever he would tell her next._ _

__“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said. “But I believe I am acclimating to my duties quite well.”_ _

__“You are, which is why I ask you one other thing.”_ _

__He leaned in close, a stern frown overtaking his face. “You’ve noticed that my son is very secretive. He refuses to share details of his spiritual training with me or anyone else, which is highly troubling for the people of our kingdom. What I am asking is that once you and Champion Urbosa return from the desert with the prince, describe to me what occurred.” His eyes glinted coldly. “I expect every detail your keen mind observes, and that my son remains unaware of your instructions.”_ _

__Zelda bit down on her lip, holding back a gasp, and nodded. “Yes, sir.”_ _

__That warm smile spread across his face like oil floating on the surface of water. “Thank you, Champion Zelda. Your loyalty to the crown is stellar.”_ _

__Zelda departed with the feeling of snakes wrestling in her stomach. Hylian subjects did not know what the king’s plan for defeating Ganon was, and that was because the king did not know, either! At least, he knew very little of Prince Link’s training and what it entailed, and not a word had been said regarding his progress or setbacks. This was an overly faithful king hoping his son could take care of things._ _

__And yet not so faithful that he could trust his son. Asking Zelda to spy on the prince betrayed mistrust, certainly, but born from what? Fear, doubt, anger, or a need to control?_ _

__And most of all, why would the prince keep such crucial information to himself for so long? He had certainly aroused suspicion, and his “spiritual training” seemed an acceptable answer to anything he said, including a desire for extreme privacy._ _

__Through all this, though, Zelda felt an excitement building in her. The prince was a puzzle, she realized, and she would have access to all the pieces as time went on. If anyone could figure out what was going on with Prince Link, it was going to be her._ _

__And she had to, since Hyrule was at stake and the more people put their faith in others, the less they really seemed to have._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear what you guys think--I'll probably be uploading daily during social distancing, so there's plenty more coming your way!


	3. Link's Resentment

The desert-bound caravan struck an odd impression. A prince and an appointed knight on horseback with a handful of other Hylian knights marching beside them on foot, dwarfed by Lady Urbosa and her own outfit of colossal Gerudo warriors. The Gerudo turned every head they passed, which was many; Zelda knew Gerudo tradeswomen had to travel throughout Hyrule to make a living, but rare were the moments when the province’s warriors were on parade. They made quite a dazzling sight.

So dazzling that, after seeing the magnificence of the Gerudo, people didn’t gape so stupidly at Prince Link. Of course they bowed to him, but their eyes were glued to the warrior women and the prince seemed to enjoy it! He seemed less concerned with clinging to his displays of perfection. He carried himself as regally as always, but there was pride in the set of his shoulders and, every once in a while, a smile on his face. 

Zelda thought the journey across Hyrule would be a quiet one, but the prince seemed to blossom outside the castle gates. He eagerly asked her about landmarks they passed (“that’s the Coliseum, Your Highness, and it’s been overrun with monsters for years”) or spoke about local customs with stable owners when they stopped to rest. Like Cremia, the Hylian citizens seemed cagey at first, but the more the prince talked to them with so much genuine interest in their worlds, they grew warmer to him and seemed to forget their resentment of the crown’s silence. He was a prince of the people, and Zelda couldn’t help but admire that.

The caravan stopped for a supper of cooked meat and hydromelon slices at the Gerudo Canyon stable after a day’s travel. While Urbosa settled the tab with the stable owner and their guards rested their feet, Zelda and the prince walked toward the mouth of the canyon, which brought them to the vast, sweeping Gerudo Desert. The sunset over the harsh landscape painted the sands a blazing gold. Kara Kara Bazaar, their final destination, was just a speck on the horizon. The famed Gerudo Town was totally shielded by the rolling dunes.

“Your Highness,” she said, “I think we should stop here tonight. The Yiga Clan would doubtlessly take their opportunity to strike if we rested in Kara Kara Bazaar.

“That far out from Karusa Valley?”

“The Yiga infest all of Hyrule in their quest to raise Ganon,” she replied. “We’ve practically come to their doorstep.”

“Very well.” He stared toward the horizon, hands clamped behind his back. She could see through his light leather gauntlets that his grip was tight and brittle. “I’d like to ask you something.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Exactly when did my father ask you to spy on me?”

Her jaw dropped. The look in his eye was coy yet humorless as he continued, “Was it the moment you accepted the appointment as my knight, or later?”

She had purposefully asked him nothing on their journey over, despite her raging desire to learn more about the prince to satisfy her own curiosity. She could have tactfully pried, but it felt so wrong to take advantage of the person she was meant to protect. Her eagerness to learn was soured by the king’s order. And yet despite all her precautions—looking away from him under the guise of security his safety (and setting up plausible deniability)—the prince had figured it all out.  
“It was yesterday morning, Your Highness,” she said sullenly.

“Later than usual.” He turned to face her. “Tell me what you learned.”

She held her head high and squared her shoulders. Even if it meant the prince stayed totally closed off from her from now on, she refused to let him misjudge her character. “Nothing. I asked you nothing today, and I observed as little as I could.”

His eyes widened and his hands returned to his sides. “Are you being honest?”

“Of course, Your Highness. And you’d know—I’m a pretty poor liar.”

He studied her for a long moment, leaning towards her with his head cocked slightly to the side as he analyzed her exactly like he’d analyzed the desert. And as he studied, his perfect mask slid off a bit and revealed utter surprise. “No one has disobeyed my father before.” Zelda’s heart broke. How often had this happened to the prince? “May I speak truthfully?”

He nodded. “At ease.”

“I believe His Majesty has no right to invade your privacy like that. If you require solitude for your training, so be it. I will defend you, Your Highness, but your secrets are safe with me.” In the pit of her stomach, she felt guilty for eavesdropping on him the first official day of her appointment. That would have to change, no matter how difficult a habit it was to break.

Zelda assumed that the moment she spoke ill of King Rhoam, she would be severely punished and stripped of her accolades. On the contrary, the prince’s face fell. “No one has ever said that.” 

“Is this a regular occurrence, Your Highness?”

He nodded. “You noticed my father dislikes not being privy to privileged information.”

“If I may say so,” she said, “that is an extremely mild way to put it.” King Rhoam had bullied and humiliated his own son at the lunch table—he had behaved like a child left out of schoolyard games! 

“He’s afraid,” he said. “Now that Ganon’s rise is imminent, he wants to ensure our family’s sacred power is in good hands.”

And he turned to espionage to accomplish that? What had broken down so greatly between father and son that they could no longer communicate or trust one another?  
“He will be suspicious if you learn nothing when you’re spending all hours with me.” He nodded definitively, his mind already made up. “I will give you some information to tell him over time. That should keep him happy, and you in his good graces.”

But he still looked uneasy. Well, Zelda supposed she would be, too, if everybody up until now had turned spy on him. And as his protector, it was her duty to soothe his mind.

She knelt before him and bowed her head, just like the Sacred Ceremony. “I am loyal to you first and foremost, Your Highness,” she vowed. “I will do what you ask of me.”

“Then rise, Zelda,” he said, “and call me Link.”

The Pr—Link bid the Gerudo faction goodbye as they headed for Gerudo Town—without the Hylians slowing them down, they would be able to spend the night in their beds. The plan was that Urbosa would spend the night with the Hylians at the Gerudo Canyon stable so she could guide them the rest of the way to the Seven Goddesses monument the next morning. Once the rest of the guards had set up camp behind the stable (owing to the fact that Zelda, Link, and Urbosa had reserved the last three beds), Zelda and Link doubled back on their route to find a quiet place for Link to pray. They talked avidly and openly as they journeyed, with Link taking the lead in the conversation so Zelda could remain watchful in her guardianship. In fact, Zelda was the new subject of the prince’s inquiry, and he seemed thoroughly fascinated by her.

“Tell me how you became a swordswoman,” he asked. Yes, that was the way he asked questions. She had learned he was direct by nature and formed his questions as statements. Maybe it was a symptom of being raised as the crown prince, but his thoughtfulness belied his brusqueness.

“It all started because I was too curious for my own good.”

“Really?”

A smile came to her face. “Essentially, yes. You know my mother was a knight, yes?”

“Of course.” Her mother’s knighthood was the reason Zelda was already in line for training in Akkala and was likely a factor in her appointment as Link’s knight.

“When I was a child, she displayed her weapons in our home but always make sure they were out of my reach. Rather, what she _thought_ was out of my reach.”

Link gasped. “Were you hurt?”

She chuckled. “Very nearly, but that was only after I managed to unhook her broadsword from the wall.”

“How did you do that?”

“My home had this overhanging trellis of sorts that was suspended from the ceiling. We would put our food stores there during wintertime. I managed to swing from there to my mother’s sword and dislodge it from its rack, and all without making a sound.”

“How did you get hurt, then?”

“That came later. I got really good at that trick, so I started taking the sword out at night to practice.” She was a precocious child, always too curious for her own good. 

She had managed to replicate the swings of her mother’s training regimen to an almost perfect degree, despite the sword being far too heavy for a six-year-old. “I was practicing on a tree when I nicked myself on the arm. Imagine my mother awaking to her sobbing daughter with blood running down her chubby little arm! I told her everything that was going on, and she scolded me while patching me up, but then she decided to train me proper.”

Link chuckled. “You were very young when you started your training.”

“My mother planned on training me later in life,” she admitted. “I just pushed up her schedule. May I ask how long you’ve been conducting your spiritual training?”

He went quiet for a moment and Zelda feared she’d stepped over the line yet again, but then his answer flowed from him like the Hylia River. “I was just as young as you.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. But I did not have the benefit of a teacher.”

“You’ve been self-training all these years?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” She let out a low whistle. “I can’t imagine doing that from such a young age.”

Link went silent again, lowering his head. “I lost my teacher before I could ever learn from her.”

“May Hylia watch over her and us.” The queen’s death shook Hyrule to the core and marked the last of the crown’s transparency with its kingdom. The castle closed its doors to grieve and never reopened them. Was that the event that caused the rift between father and son as well? A parent’s death was enough to shatter a family—it just happened that the shattering of this family may have led to the destabilization of a kingdom.

Link nodded in recognition, though his eyes seemed to look beyond the desert sands. “Learning on one’s own is a difficult path.”

He was retreating again, so Zelda tried to draw him back out. “I think I might know something about that.”

“You do?”

“In a way. See, you can train for battle for years and years, but nothing can prepare you for the real thing.”

It was like his moment of grief had never happened. He was locked into this topic of conversation like a hawk. “Go on.”

“Well, what I mean to say is that running drills and learning maneuvers are essential preparations, but there’s nothing that can prepare you for fighting for your life.” 

She shook her head, clearing from it the memories of blood spraying in the air, of the squelching of flesh as her sword ran through bodies, of the stink of death and the fear that the battle would go on another day. Why did it have to be this topic that Link related to? And _how_ did he relate to this, exactly? “I learned well on the battlefield because I had to.”

“Because you would die if you didn’t.”

She nodded, swallowing down the nausea creeping into her. That was a crass way to put it, but not untrue. “Yes.”

His gaze was fixed on her, piercing, entrapping, and hungering. “What exactly did it teach you?”

“You want specifics?”

“Yes.”

She swallowed. “Well, I suppose it taught me how to react quickly. And how to keep my head when a Lizalfo is bearing down on it. Your instructors stress those virtues, but they’re impossible to learn until you enter a real fight.”

“So, it was battle where you truly learned your skill!”

“In a matter of speaking, yes.” Thankfully, they had arrived at a private cave of sorts in the canyon wall that was easily defensible and far enough from the stable for Link to focus on praying. She’d rather do anything other than continue this conversation. “Will this place suffice?”

“Certainly.” Link seemed to realize he touched a nerve, because those eyes finally released her and he walked past her into the cave, knelt to the ground, folded his hands, and lowered his head. Zelda turned her back on him and all but ripped the Master Sword off her shoulder, scabbard and all, and planted the tip in the ground before her feet. Her hands gripped the pommel as she took slow, silent breaths to calm herself without arousing Link’s suspicion.

Battle had sharpened her into Hyrule Kingdom’s greatest weapon, but the sharpest blades were also the most fragile.

The arrangement was that Link, Zelda, and Urbosa would sleep while the outfit of guards stood watch throughout the night. Zelda had opposed that arrangement, insisting that she take part in the watch, but both Link and Urbosa countered that, since it was only the three of them that would complete the march to the Seven Goddesses, they ought to get a full night’s sleep. She didn’t like it, but she lay down to rest all the same, the Master Sword propped against the foot of her bed in case of emergency.

The emergency first struck in the slightest twinge of a bad feeling. It was a bad enough feeling that it lightened her sleep and eventually brought her to full wakefulness.

Groggy, she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. The sliver of night sky she could see through the stable door glittered with starlight. Urbosa slept soundly in the bed on her right, her great swath of red hair spilling over the pillow and nearly to the floor. And Link, in the bed on her left—

The bed to her left was empty.

She leaped out of bed and grabbed the Master Sword, slinging it over her back as she raced to Link’s bed. The blankets were messy, and Link’s boots were gone as well as the Sheikah Slate, their navigator for this journey. She didn’t need it, though, because she knew exactly where the prince had gone. Their last conversation hadn’t felt right, but she had assumed it was her own body remembering the abuses levied on it. What she had not seen and now realized was Link using her experience to form a plan.

Zelda yanked on her boots, threw on her cloak, and rushed into the night without waking the rest of the troops. It would take too long to marshal them into some sort of strategy before the prince was killed at the hands of the Yiga, which was sure to happen if she wasted another second before journeying to Karusa Valley, the only place the prince would go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! The next chapter explores the all-important "Blades of the Yiga" memory, and I'm really excited to see what you think of it, too!


	4. Blades of the Yiga

Zelda raced over the cold desert sands, the chill of the night grasping at her joints as though to slow her down. But she couldn’t slow down, couldn’t rest, couldn’t waste a second of time as Link careened toward his own death. The crown prince of Hyrule and divinely chosen carrier of the sacred sealing power was hurtling headfirst into the Yiga Clan’s arms and it was all because of what she said!

At first it was just a gut feeling that told her so, but it became very clear when she remembered their conversation earlier that day:

_“So it was battle where you truly learned your skill!”_

_“In a matter of speaking, yes.”_

She learned to survive in battle, so he would do the same by throwing himself at the Yiga Clan who would be only too happy to kill him where he stood, and he’d be helpless to defend himself. It was an asinine and desperate thing to do, and Zelda knew there _must_ be a reason because the prince was not insane. The prince’s carefulness he displayed in every conversation and every movement of his body had not suddenly flown the coop!

But she didn’t have the time to ferret out his reasoning. She had to get to him before the Yiga did!

As she ran, she found herself drawing closer to a furiously swirling sandstorm that blocked the way west. Thanks to her memorizing their map, Zelda knew that Karusa Valley lay beyond this storm, but even if Link still had the Sheikah Slate, the whipping winds had spurred the sands into such a frenzy that it disguised all landmarks. He could be wandering anywhere in the desert at this point!

Suddenly, a beam from the full moon shone down into the sandstorm and seemed to split the perilous cloud in two. In the break in the sandy front Zelda could see the magnificent Great Cliffs, whose odd rock formations generated the cyclical air currents that shrouded it in dust. And deep in those formations she could see someone with blond hair wearing traveling clothes in the signature blue of the Hylian royal family.

“Link!” She ran through the gap in the storm and sprinted towards Link. And then a cloud passed in front of the moon, the moonbeam that had opened her way disappeared, and the sandstorm slammed into her from all sides and threatened to drown her.

“Link!” she called again, choking on the sand that pierced her face, her eyes, and every inch of exposed skin. Her wild hair whipped about, further destroying her vision.

She pushed through the sandstorm and further into the Great Cliffs. She walked in what she intended to be a straight line toward where the prince had stood, but the winds had a titanic strength that pushed her to and fro; visibility was low enough that she had no real sense of where she was going. The sands shifting beneath her feet didn’t help, either. The damned storm roared in her ears as she forced her way ahead, unable to hear any calls the prince might have made.

Eventually her hands, which she waved around her in hopes of finding Link’s wrist or shoulder, ran up against one of the cliff sides. With little else to do, she seized the opportunity and quickly scaled the cliff. Perhaps if she could get a bird’s eye view of the storm, she could find him!

She reached the top of the cliff, nothing more than a rock pillar that was short by Great Cliff standards, but it was tall enough to get her out of the heart of the chaos. The sandstorm was thin enough up here that she could see a dark shape stumbling through the storm below!

She was about to call for Link when she saw another shadowy figure appear, darting in and out of the billows of sand. They were very deliberate and very sure of their footing, deftly dodging the wind and the rock pillars with the grace of a leaf on the wind. They were too familiar with this landscape to be anything but a villain of the desert!

The second figure started racing toward the first, who was moving as slowly as a Hinox and twice as confused, but suddenly the winds became stronger and threw sand over the figures, utterly disguising their movements and making her unclear of who was where! And if she couldn’t figure it out soon, Link was dead!

_The moonlight!_ She drew the Master Sword and held it skyward. Whether by sheer luck or divine guidance, a moonbeam struck the blade just right and reflected it downward into the storm, clearing the shroud-like sand away and exposing the Yiga Clan footsoldier stalking towards an exhausted, weather-beaten, kneeling Link.

The Yiga soldier turned up towards the source of light and Zelda stared back into the inverted Sheikah eye. In the time it took to draw a breath, she leaped into the fray, hugging the cliff wall as she slid down. Spurred into action, the Yiga hurtled toward Link who tried to scramble away but fell over himself in his fear.

When she was low enough the ground, Zelda pushed off the wall into a flying leap which landed her before the Yiga. She planted herself in the sand and swung the Master Sword, which caught the Yiga’s Vicious Sickle just before it cleaved her neck. She forced the soldier back and swung again; this time, her blade entered their hip. They faltered, and Zelda brought her boot to their chest and kicked them down to the sand. In the moment they took to collect themselves, Zelda raced toward Link and stood in front of him with the Master Sword held at the ready.

“Leave now!” she commanded. “Or I won’t hesitate to end your life!”

The Yiga soldier climbed to their feet. Zelda’s body tensed, every muscle ready to spring her into action, until they brought their fists together and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. The wind kicked up again, and it was like they were never there.

Zelda’s body relaxed as she turned to look at Link. He was tired, shaking, and ashamed.

She extended her free hand to him. “Let’s go back to the stable.”

Zelda managed to guide them out of the sandstorm with the divine help of the Master Sword, reflecting the moonlight steadily and surely as they walked. She sheathed it when they made it into calmer desert air, but she never lost her grip on the prince, and he noticed.

“I’m not a child,” he said, his arm wriggling in her hand. There was sand in his face, hair, and clothes, and he walked with a slight limp. She’d have to look at that ankle when they got back to the stable, though she couldn’t fathom how to do that without drawing undue attention to his activity. “I don’t need to be dragged there.”

“Forgive me, Link,” she said, too sharply. “I want to make sure we both get there in one piece.”

“Let me go!”

“No!” She pulled them to a stop. “I didn’t think I had to warn you not to go hunting down trained assassins in the deadliest quadrant of Hyrule! Have you no common sense?”

“I was working with a theory,” he retorted. “I was testing something.”

“What in Hylia’s name could you possibly be testing in this manner?”

He suddenly turned as cold as the desert night. “It’s none of your business.”

“Pardon?” she spluttered. “If you’re going to throw yourself at people who would gladly kill you, I believe _your appointed knight_ it is wholly my business!”

“As your crown prince I declare it’s irrelevant!”

He managed to pull his arm out of her grip, but only because she was shocked. Yes, he’d well and truly shocked her. That was the loudest he had ever gotten with her—indeed, he rarely managed above a curt murmur with anyone—and he never even seemed aware he was a prince, much less that he could pull rank so brutally like that.

She sank to one knee in the sand, head bowed. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness. I forgot my place.”

A long moment, and then a deep sigh. “Rise. Please. I’d like to apologize.”

She did as she was bidden and met the eyes of a remorseful Prince Link. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I’m making your job difficult with my secrecy.”

“I’m sorry, too.” And she was. While his moodiness had thrown her for several loops in the past three days, she didn’t have the heart to resent his swings. As a peace offering, she said, “I promise I’ll keep this between you and I. His Majesty won’t hear a word.”

“I appreciate that,” he replied. “And I appreciate how much you’ve let me get away with so far. I know I’m not the easiest charge.”

“Your Highness—”

“It’s okay. I know guarding me is a hefty responsibility, and I’ve made it significantly more difficult even in these first few days.” Out here, just the two of them in the desert, Link did not put on his mask. His eyes were wide and apologetic, and he radiated earnestness and goodwill. “I don’t want to treat you like this any longer.” 

She swallowed. These were choppy waters to navigate, especially after the prince had admitted to his capriciousness—sort of. “Your Highness—”

“Link, please.”

“Link.” She met his eyes again. “In order to protect you, I need to know what your movements are. I know you are not the warmest to that reality, but it is so.”

He heaved another big sigh and folded his arms. She continued, “I believe I have a compromise you may feel comfortable with.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Yes?”

“If there is another similarly dangerous experiment you want to conduct as you did tonight,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder and toward the sandstorm, “then it is my obligation to attempt to talk you out of it. And if I should fail, then I will follow you. And if the terrain is tricky or dangerous, I will even lead you.” She couldn’t help the smirk on her face. “I’m not great at persuading people of anything, though, especially if they’ve already set their mind to something.”

His eyes began to brighten. “You would not presume to strong-arm me out of danger?”

“I swore to rescue you from danger,” she said. “Nothing bars me from obstructing your way into it if you choose to go there. And nothing in my vows of fealty mentioned telling your father details of this arrangement, either.”

He smiled for the first time, quiet and cautious and hopeful. For as small as that smile was, Zelda felt something shift in her; whatever it was, it had allied her irrevocably to the prince’s side. “You are more than reasonable, Zelda,” he said. “If you are willing to follow me into danger, I will be more transparent with you. After all, you would have the fullest picture of what trouble we are getting into together.”

This all sounded well and good, but Zelda was already quelling that blooming bud of hope in her heart. After all, she and Link had made promises like this to each other before, only to break them in a matter of hours. If she could believe him this time, she had to make sure this will stick.

“Link,” she began, “clearly there is a powerful force that drove you to seek out the Yiga Clan under the cover of night. If I am to fulfill my duties, I have to know why.”  
His face fell. “I know. I see that is unavoidable. It is difficult to talk about because of its sensitive nature.”

“I understand that, but I still need to know. It is essential to your safety that I understand you. And the reasoning that brought you to the conclusion to seek out the Yiga seems to hold a great deal of power over you.”

“It does.” His eyes remained fixed on the far-off dunes, but she could see the crease in his forehead and the tension in his shoulders. It was a sore spot, indeed, but she watched as he contained the pain shooting out from where’s she’d prodded, quelling it and packing it away as he turned to look at her again. “I ask for another compromise. I will tell you—I know I _must_ tell you—but allow me time. I have rarely been able to trust the people around me not to spill my secrets; I do trust you, Zelda, but being able to hand anyone that power over me will take me time.” 

Zelda frowned. Was he really asking for trust from her after pulling this stunt? And after admitting he wasn’t the most trustworthy figure to protect? He trusted her, but not enough to know anything about him!

Well, they had to start somewhere. Someone had to extend trust towards him for him to know he could return the gesture.

“That’s all right.” Willfully giving her information after a life of being pried at and spied on was going to leave a mark. Even if she had a spotless record (and she did not, if conversations between them were in consideration), trust would be slow to build with Link.

But already it was starting to grow. At least that small smile was back and widening. Her heart fluttered. “Thank you,” he said, holding back a shiver.

“Let’s get going,” Zelda said softly. “I’ll check you over once we’re safe in the stable to see if you’re hurt, and then we can get a few more hours of shut-eye before we leave for the Seven Goddesses.”

They set off again through the desert. Only now did Zelda feel its chill sting her, making the sweat that still clung to her clothes cold against her skin. Her rush out here had been fiery on its own, reckless and invulnerable to cold in her fear for the prince’s life. Link had had the foresight to bring a cloak which now dangled off one shoulder, its clasp clinging to one side on a thread. He still shivered, unaccustomed to the harshness of travel or combat.

As they walked, the last detail that had been nagging at Zelda finally came to fruition. “I must have a talk with the soldiers!” she exclaimed. “Whichever one had nodded off while you slipped out failed their duties. What did they think they were doing, sleeping on the job?”

“Don’t,” Link replied. He looked at her sheepishly and said, “I persuaded him to get some shuteye myself. Only when he was asleep did I flee. Do not see him punished—he only did as I asked.”

She stared at him, stunned, and then started to _laugh._ It was a graceless laugh that she should have reined in, in case any Lizalfos were slumbering nearby; but she laughed heartily and obnoxiously, and quite more than she had in a while! In fact, she was doubling over and clutching her stomach, so tickled by this revelation!

“Zelda?” he said, shocked in his own right.

She couldn’t answer him right away. It was only when she managed to smother her guffaws into giggles, slipping out of her like fireflies through cupped hands, that she could speak again. “Forgive me, Link,” she wheezed, “but you are much more world-weary than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“You orchestrated your own escape down to the last detail!” The gumption, the resourcefulness! This prince may be pampered, but his cushy upbringing hadn’t worn down his sharp mind. “I can only admire that, Your Highness.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” she said as the mouth of Gerudo Canyon came into view. “If I were a princess, I’m sure I’d spend all my time trying to escape, too.”


	5. A Premonition

Zelda lifted her shield in time to block the deadly points of the Lightscale Trident. She peered over the shield’s rim and met the eyes of her opponent. Mipha, usually the quietest of the Champions, was fierce and totally focused on her goal: to beat Zelda.

Zelda completed the parry, shoving aside the Trident and sweeping the Master Sword towards Mipha in a single fluid motion. The princess trapped the blade with the prongs of her Trident and very nearly disarmed Zelda, but she maintained her grip on her weapon and as a result, she was sent stumbling across the Great Zora Bridge, being pulled along like a broken cart behind a horse. The luminous-stone surface was slick with a recent rain, so when she loosened her blade from its trap, she slid all the way across until she hit the blue banister with an oomph!

“Sorry!” said Mipha, lowering her spear. The fire in her eyes disappeared all of a sudden as reality crashed down on her. “Are you hurt?”

Zelda brushed herself off and leaped to her feet. “I’m just fine. You’re not doing yourself any favors if you lose focus.”

“Who says—!”

“Ha!”

Zelda lunged at her again with an overhead strike. In a flash, Mipha lifted the Trident so the bar caught the Master Sword. Mipha’s face became like armor again, steely glint returning to her eye. “Who says I’m losing focus?”

Mipha pushed her off, and once again they fell into their pattern: stab, block, strike, dodge. It was much harder to fight on this slippery, narrow playing field, and Zelda was grateful for the practice. She had been the one to invite the Zora princess to a sparring match while the Sheikah researchers made adjustments to Vah Ruta, though she doubted Mipha would have ever peeled away on her own. Link and King Dorephan were talking politics in the meantime, and while Mipha seemed eager to sit in on those talks, Dorephan was unusually firm on his daughter being absent from this delegation. Zelda suspected that it was largely so he could ascertain the risks that came with his daughter’s Champion status, and to reckon with it without scaring her. He was a good parent and a good king. Rare were the people who could embody both qualities at the same time, but the Zora King was perhaps gargantuan enough to accomplish it.

Mipha twirled her Lightscale Trident with precise and deadly aim, but Zelda wasn’t being dazzled; she was learning that the weapon the princess wielded so well was its own vulnerability. The length of her spear necessitated twirling so the dangerous end was always pointed at its wielder’s foe. It was a vulnerability she could exploit.

When Mipha lunged again, Zelda dodged to the side instead of parrying with her shield. Carried forward by her momentum, it was Mipha who lost her footing this time, the points of her trident dipping low as she tried to regain her balance. Zelda let gut instinct take over from there, honed from training and bolstered by courage: she planted her boot on the Trident, forced Mipha to the ground, and then held the Master Sword to Mipha’s throat. Their eyes met in a tense stillness, and then they laughed.

“That was excellent, Zelda,” said Mipha as Zelda let up on the trident. “Hyrule’s in good hands.”

“Vah Ruta is in good hands,” she replied. “I’ve never seen such skill with a spear.” 

“Thank you.” She grinned bashfully. “That means quite a lot.”

“Zelda?”

Immediately the knight snapped to attention and turned, where she found Prince Link watching his step as he crossed the slippery bridge. “Hello, Your Highness.”

She couldn’t shake the sudden awareness of how unkempt she must look next to him. He was so pristine, sharply cut, and charming even in the mugginess after the downpour, and she looked like a wild child of the woods! Her thick hair fell from its ponytail, sweat made her tunic cling to her, and her face was surely red with exertion. 

Mipha had barely broken a sweat in battle and was as sure-footed as a Lizalfo, but her voice was awfully meek and full of trepidation when she said, “Is—is there anything we could do to assist you, Your Highness?” 

“King Dorephan has asked me to find you,” he replied. “He’d like to speak to you regarding Vah Ruta.”

“Of course. Thank you, Your Highness.” Mipha bowed her head again, but her gaze lingered a moment longer on the prince before she hurried down the length of the Great Zora Bridge and back into the aquamarine artistry of Zora’s Domain.

Zelda sheathed her sword. Her playtime was up. She reached up and tied her wild hair back so she may have an ounce of presentability. “Thank you for allowing my brief respite. I am ready to return to duty.”

“Wait.” He bit his lip, eyes darting between her face and just over her shoulder to the handle of her sword. “Your maneuvers around her trident were quite impressive.”

“Thank you. Mipha may not seem like it at first, but she’s quite a fearsome foe if you’re on her bad side.”

“You’re right. But I don’t want to be on your bad side, either.” The corner of his mouth pulled briefly upward. “You were fascinating to watch.”

Her cheeks warmed. “How long were you watching us?”

Link’s head lowered, and he started to shift his weight from foot to foot. “Not long. The glimpse I caught as I came to speak to you was quite informative and impressive on its own. In fact, I was wondering if you would teach me how you did it.”

_“Teach_ you?” That stopped her short. “You want to learn combat?”

“I am not asking you to commit to training me,” he said, the words tumbling over themselves in their rush to make it out in quite an endearing way. “I am only curious and impressed, and I would like to learn at least a little about your craft. It is fascinating.”

Zelda’s brow furrowed. “Be honest with me, please. Do you truly want to learn swordplay out of mere curiosity?”

“You of all people should know how powerful curiosity can be, Zelda,” he replied smoothly, flashing her a smirk. Her heart lightened. “But you are right. It is not only out of curiosity.”

“May I ask what else?”

He sighed. “I cannot help but think of my conduct in Gerudo Desert. I made myself a ripe target because I did not know better. I would very much like to know better.”

“Link, it’s my _job_ to defend you.”

“This is not because I doubt your ability. I know you will always be the better fighter. Please, Zelda, indulge me.” He locked eyes with her. His hands folded as if in prayer. “Teach me, if for no other reason than it would make me very happy.”

Zelda could never deny someone so eager to learn. “All right. An indulgence for an indulgence.”

His head tilted to the side. “How do you mean?”

“You allowed me a moment to play. The least I can do is share my toys.”

He beamed. “I’ll send for a pair of training swords.”

“No need. We won’t be sparring.”

“What?”

She unsheathed the sword that seals the darkness and pressed the pommel into the palm of his hand. “The first thing knights learn is the proper set of maneuvers. On your own first so you develop muscle memory, and _then_ with a partner to test it.”

“I see,” he said, gauging the weight of the Master Sword. It seemed to suit him. “That’s how I learned ballroom dancing.”

“I learned differently.”

He shot her a quizzical look. “You learned to dance?”

“In a manner of speaking.” If he could play coy, she could, too. “I observed the dancers at the Champion’s Ceremony. After a bit of study, I learned the patterns of the different steps.”

That smile came back, warm and sweet. “Then the next time our allies gather for such a celebration, I must see how well you learned.”

“We shall see, Link. For now, follow me.” They walked toward the other end of the Great Zora Bridge which led to one of the small islands that dotted Ruto Lake, far from the eyes of anyone who might think this brief lapse in focus was worthy of being reported to the king. She grabbed a fallen tree branch near the edge of the island and then returned to Link, arranging herself at his side. “Your defensive stance is the cornerstone of battlefield survival. Watch me closely.”

She planted her feet wide and bent her knees. “You want to remain light on your feet. A quick dodge can save your life.”

Slowly, Link shuffled his feet until he copied her pose. “Now, this is the basic form,” she said, “so don’t think about wielding a shield or a spear. For all intents and purposes, all you have at your disposal is a sword. You’re going to keep both hands on your sword and hold it in front of you.”

She demonstrated, lifting her tree branch with a slow breath. As she exhaled, her arms relaxed and her elbows, like her knees, bent. “You want to remain very nimble and very fluid.”

“Nimble and fluid,” Link murmured, doing his best to follow along. He was in an entirely new arena and it showed: his body was rigid, and he held the sword like he wanted nothing to do with it, arms locked and extended as though in offering. She broke her stance and walked over to him. “Soften these elbows,” she instructed, running a hand over his left.

He did so, but now the sword started to lower, his arms shaking. “It’s so heavy!”

“It’s not,” she replied. “Your stance is just too narrow. May I adjust it?”

“Of course,” he said, not without irritation. “Please. My arms are aching.”

“Very well, very well.” She drew closer to him and guided his body into the proper shape. She nudged his heel with her toe to widen his stance. Over his shoulder, she said, “Remember to bend your knees.”

“I feel like I’ll drop it if I do,” he muttered. “How is this thing so heavy?”

“It takes some time to build your strength.” Her hand found his pair clamped around the pommel and gently lifted the sword to where it should be. As her other hand came to the small of his back, she added, “Keep your back straight. Proper posture will help you keep your balance as you fight—as well as make you look dignified.”

“Dignified,” he murmured, his blue eyes sliding toward hers. For one second, she felt that particular kind of warmth again, but his smile was nowhere in sight. Often times, he seemed far away from the world, like he was peering through it to solve a quandary. Now, though, he seemed completely present, savoring every inch of this moment. She saw a question in his eyes, and she saw realization sweep his face as he seized upon the answer.

She pulled away again, and that warmth vanished with their closeness. “Now you know how to stand still. Next I’ll teach you how to move.”

She taught him the basics of combat throughout the rest of the afternoon, like how to slash, strike, and dodge while maintaining balance. While he may not have peak physical fitness, he had the eagerness and aptitude to learn befitting a new recruit. Every once in a while a voice not unlike King Rhoam’s reminded her that they ought to return to their posts and prepare to speak with the Sheikah researchers; but then she would look at how the prince’s face lit up when he finally mastered a maneuver and decide that reporting back to Zora’s Domain could wait a while longer. He was learning well, and he wanted to learn more. Who was she to stop his curiosity?

“Very good, Link,” she said as the sun started to sink behind the hills of Upland Zorana. “I’m going to try something that I didn’t think we would get to.”

He lowered the Master Sword, wearing a puzzled frown. “What is it?”

She picked up her tree branch again and then planted herself in front of him, brandishing her branch with the flourish of the blade of legend. “I’ll teach you how to think quickly.”

Link’s face, which was red with effort, suddenly drained color. “I won’t fight you if all you have is a branch.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said breezily. “Just attack me. I’ve been teaching you how to do that all afternoon!”

“I don’t know, Zelda—”

“You can do it!”

“Zelda—!”

“Come on!” 

His brow furrowed, his jaw set, and Link swung the Master Sword half-heartedly. She swung the branch and managed to hit the sword at its exact center of weight, skewing it from its path. She reached out with her other hand and seized Link’s wrist, which she twisted and squeezed. With a cry, Link dropped his weapon.

She grinned at him. “I told you that you wouldn’t hurt me.”

His face glowed with admiration, his stunned and stunning eyes boring into hers. “How did you do that?”

Only then did Zelda realize she was so close to the prince that their noses nearly touched, and that she could feel his breath on her, and that that warmth had returned to an incriminating degree.

She stepped away hurriedly, clearing her throat. “Training and thinking, Your Highness,” she explained. “It took a lot of work for me to understand that.”

“A lot of work.” He nodded, and then he picked up her sword and gazed thoughtfully at it. He looked like a natural with it. “Zelda, I would very much like for this to continue.”

“What about your spiritual training?” Responsibility came crashing back down. “I do not want to distract you.”

“I believe this will help my spiritual training,” he replied earnestly. “Even for just the relief it will provide me from its stresses. It will help me focus, some skills may well end up become transferable, and…”

His eyes lingered on her face. “And something tells me it will help. I cannot explain it.”

She knew the king would hate this and that the citizens of Hyrule would hate it, too. What was the prince doing playing soldier when he should be preparing for Ganon’s return? “Well,” she said, taking the Master Sword from him and returning it to its sheath, “I would be honored to teach you. Purely in the utilitarian sense.”

“Thank you. In the utilitarian sense.” He smiled at her again, and her heart fluttered. “If there comes a day when _I_ have to save _you,_ we’ll both be very lucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really fun chapter!!! I super enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoyed it, too! Let me know what you think!


	6. Silent Prince

Zelda marched into the secret chamber hidden away in Hyrule Castle’s library, invited by the king into his study. So cleverly cloaked was this study that Zelda would never have noticed without the odd feeling not to stand with her back to that wall. Clearly the royal family was used to secrecy and even thrived in it. 

As Zelda entered the study and found herself face-to-face with the imposing King Rhoam, whose presence seemed to fill the entire library, she prepared herself to keep secrets from him, too. She had been through plenty of trials that had tested her skill and her will, but never her capability of deception.

“Hello, Zelda,” said the king, gesturing to a chair. “Welcome back from Eldin. Thank you for seeing me so soon on your return.”

King Rhoam took a long, leisurely time to sit down, turning the chair by his desk out to face Zelda. Her posture remained perfect, hands tucked behind her back and chin held straight and square. Military posture and precision—that was what she trained for. Not this.

“How can I be of service to you, Your Majesty?”

“I called you here for one thing,” said the king. “And you know exactly what. How goes my son’s training?”

_“You’re not lying, Zelda,” said Link, taking a swig from his canteen as they rested at the shore of Gero Pond. It was the first time since they departed Goron City that they forewent their fire-resistant elixirs, though a fire was building in Link’s eyes nonetheless. “You’re following the king’s explicit orders.”_

_“But not his implicit ones,” she replied. “And if this was okay, you wouldn’t have waited to discuss our plan until alone!”_

_“I waited because I value my privacy,” he retorted. “You agreed to this plan, remember?”_

_“I know. I know.” Despite the churning of her stomach, she knew her first duty was to protect Link which included feeding his father half-truths about his training. “I’ve never been called upon for this task before. It’s a challenge I’ve not faced.”_

_Link’s face softened and he handed the canteen back to her. “I know I ask you to take a great risk for me. I do not take that lightly. But if you are found out, I will ensure no punishment befalls you.”_

_“But then it will befall you!” she replied. “My duty is to protect you however you need me.”_

_“Perhaps protecting me comes in the form of listening to me. I know you seem to demonstrate some difficulty with following orders,” he said with a coy smile, “but I need you to trust my judgment.”_

_He’d asked for her trust once before and she had given it; it was time to act like it. Besides, she couldn’t help but obey that coy smile of his. “Very well, Your Highness. I will do ask you ask.”_

_He sighed with relief. “Thank you. First, remember to call me Link. Second, I have some ideas.”_

_He went to his horse and produced a journal from his saddlebags. He flipped through the pages as he walked back over to her until he found what he’d been looking for. Holding it out to her, he said, “Read these and repeat back to me.”_

_Zelda took the journal, swallowed, and began._

“Very well, Your Majesty,” Zelda replied, shifting her feet a hair wider. “He is very dedicated to honing his skill and understanding of the sacred power.”

“And how does he accomplish this?” asked the king. “What are his methods for exploring his abilities? What _are_ his abilities?”

“I am not privy to observing his training sessions,” she said, the scripted lie flowing easily from her lips. “But his training includes, to the best of my knowledge, meditation to encourage a deep spiritual connection.”

“Meditation.” King Rhoam’s jaw clenched. “Hyrule Kingdom is at stake, and you tell me our only hope of survival lies in mediation, of all things. Surely you’ve seen him use his powers, if only in practice!”

Link had prepared her for this as well. “He fears utilizing his sacred power without fully understanding it. He says wielding godly power in ignorance will bring only disaster.”

“So he says.” King Rhoam’s eyes narrowed. “How much does he truly understand of the sacred power? In his training, how far along do you believe he’s progressed?”

_Zelda and Link trained in the art of swordplay in whatever spare hours they could rescue from prying eyes. At first, it was only a few moments when they had the training yard to themselves. But as the prince’s duties as leader of the Champions called for traveling to the far provinces of Hyrule, their moments of solitude increased exponentially—mainly due to a persuasive argument from Link that Zelda was the only protector he needed._

_They would train on stone bridges, silty hills, and slippery paths—the prince seized upon the chance to learn to fight on any ground. Zelda had smuggled a pair of ancient swords with blades made of light in her traveling pack, to be used in their sparring. They were deadly sharp, but Zelda was learning enough about the prince to ensure neither of them were injured even in his error._

_Though to his credit, Link was a swift learner. He could recall every movement with near-perfect accuracy and recite the principle of every technique she taught him. He excelled at the theory, but the practice left something to be desired._

_“Hyaah!” cried Link, lunging forward in what he must have thought was a heroic rush, but it was just a messy play that Zelda quickly put to bed. With a step to the side and a flick of her wrist, Link and his sword ended in the dirt. The prince stared up at her, very awe-filled and hardly prince-like as she smiled and offered her hand._

_“Come on. Let’s try again.”_

“He works tirelessly,” said Zelda to the king. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone work so hard, even a knight-in-training.”

That wasn’t rehearsed or fed. That was true honesty—and it was honesty that could pass. And she knew it did, because a proud smile crept across the king’s face as he said, “He has always been a hard worker, my son. Eager to exceed expectations, no matter the expectation.”

“I can see it, Your Majesty,” she replied. “He dedicates himself wholly to any task.”

King Rhoam’s face softened. “He has been that way since he was young. Since his mother’s death.”

“May Hylia watch over her and us.” The blessing came unbidden. It was all but instinct to her now, as it was to all who had been children at the queen’s passing. The Queen of Hyrule was beloved by her citizens and spoken of often in the wake of her death. Zelda grew up hearing that blessing so often that saying it was a knee-jerk response. By now, as was the case with things repeated often, the saying had lost all meaning for Zelda.

But it was different for the king. The king’s face seemed to age before her eyes, like the blessing had etched another line into his tired face. “Link has done admirably well, it seems,” he said, “and better than I could have hoped for, especially with the loss of his mother. She was meant to be his teacher, but she passed a year before his training was due to begin.”

Zelda bit her lip. The friendship she had with Link was gilded by their training sessions and, dare she say, warm on occasion. That instinct to be warm and friendly with his father was awfully powerful, especially when she wanted to gush about her friend.

“Your Majesty,” she began, “I hope I am not overstepping, but I sincerely believe Prince Link will make an outstanding king.”

The king’s face darkened. “I believe he could. My fear is that there will be no Hyrule Kingdom left.”

Zelda lifted her chin. “May I speak freely, Your Majesty?”

“Please.”

“Thank you.” She relaxed, arms falling to her sides. “As you know, I am part of the royal efforts to defend Hyrule from Ganon.”

King Rhoam let loose a humorless chuckle. “You are undervaluing your contribution. You are an integral cog in our plans.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. In fact, my duties intersect deeply with the other Champions’ and with your son’s. And since I can witness their fortitude and resourcefulness up close, I admit I am very convinced of their capability to protect Hyrule.”

“I completely trust our Champions, Zelda. Make no mistake there.” He stroked his thick white beard, his brow furrowing deeply. “My fear is for my own son. He has retreated so deeply into his training that not even you, who follow him wherever he goes, has a grasp on his ability. He has always been very private, but I fear his sudden love of secrecy is a cover.”

Driven by her curiosity, the words came tumbling out of her mouth. “For what, Your Majesty?”

“I don’t know. Or perhaps the answer is right in front of me and I will not let myself see it.” He stood from his chair and began to pace, eyes on the cobblestones beneath his feet. “It is the duty of Hyrule’s monarch to remember that our kingdom’s demise may be just around the corner, and so they must plan accordingly. The threat of our fair land’s destruction is much more tangible than our ancestors, I believe. I have found little guidance in the memoirs of queens and kings from generations ago.”

Zelda felt a pang of sympathy. The Queen had been the royal heir and Rhoam her consort—until her untimely death, that was. He had married into this life and found himself in this position as a result. The Queen had had a life’s worth of preparation for situations like this. He’d had none.

Zelda felt her guard slipping down as King Rhoam whittled away at her defenses. And yet she couldn’t tell if this was an honest heart-to-heart or the calculated move of a distrustful mind.

The king continued, “They feared Ganon and so they poured their efforts into refining the training regimen of our knights, preserving ancient magical practices, and researching the legends of long ago to find clues to Ganon’s weaknesses. They did these to bolster their chances of survivability, but they considered him a distant worst-case scenario. They never had to reckon with him as a certainty. I am responsible for Hyrule, and I have no footpath to guide me.”

_“I lost my teacher before I could ever learn from her.”_

_“I’m so sorry, Your Highness. May Hylia watch over her and us.” The queen’s death shook Hyrule to the core and marked the last of the crown’s transparency with its kingdom. The castle closed its doors to grieve and never reopened them._

_Link nodded in recognition, though his eyes seemed to look beyond the desert sands. “Learning on one’s own is a difficult path.”_

Truth slipped out of her. “I believe the prince has met similar difficulties.”

At once, she knew she shouldn’t have said that. She had struggled to answer the question of which man she served, prince or king, ever since Link proposed this half-truth measure. But when the king looked at her with greed and hunger warring on his face, her heart sank like a stone in a pond. That sinking feeling told her exactly who her master was, and that she had just betrayed him.

“That makes sense,” said King Rhoam. “Of course he would have trouble. The loss of his teacher must certainly have cast a shadow over his training.” His eyes burned with a solid, frightening quality. “Which makes his unflinching silence on the subject much more troubling.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Even you, who spends all hours with him, knows nothing of his training. He _must_ be hiding something.”

“Your Majesty!”

She shouted loud enough that it scared even her. Not the sound, but the consequence—who shouted at the king and got away with it?

She knelt instinctively. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. But that was mere speculation on my part. The prince hadn’t—I cannot be sure of any of that.”

The words were clunky and slow, and it was clear that her lie was only half-convincing words poorly stitched together. The king glowered at her and replied, “I cannot think of anyone who would have better insight into the inner machinations of my son’s mind. You are an invaluable cog, indeed.”

He bid her to rise, and she did. “I want to know your honest opinion, Zelda. Do not cushion your words for any reason—courtly manners, fear of retribution, or a sense of loyalty. None apply here.”

He leaned in close to her. “Do you believe my son can save us?”

_“Like this!”_

_Zelda lunged, her ancient sword flashing in the sunlight. At her side, Link lunged in exactly the same way. “Watch your feet. Don’t forget to keep your balance. Again!”_

_He lunged again and looked to her for approval. “Better,” she said. “Now tell me: when do you do that?”_

_“When there’s an opening,” he repeated. “When I won’t be deflected by a shield.”_

_“Good.” She grinned at him. “You’re getting better, Link, and much faster than I thought you would.”_

_He lowered his sword. “Do you think I’m stupid?”_

_“No,” she said, folding her arms with a playful grin, “but I think you’re a prince who’s been just a bit sheltered.”_

_He laughed. “At least I’m not a wild child!”_

_“Who’re you calling wild?”_

_“Excuse me, Your Highness!”_

_Impa, the tall, imposing elder of the Sheikah tribe, strode towards them. Immediately Link lost his familiarity with his knight and retreated into his courtly shell. Really, training Link oughtn’t be a secret but he seemed determined to keep this to himself, like a little pocket of time away from his destiny._

_“I was sent to look for you, Your Highness,” said Impa, dropping to her knee. “My sister has received word from Champion Revali that he is experiencing difficulties piloting the Divine Beast Vah Medoh.”_

_“Rise, Impa.” She did. “Did he describe the difficulties?”_

_“Not quite, though he did mention troubling consequences.”_

_“Like what?”_

_“In his efforts to learn to land Medoh, he has caused avalanches in the surrounding Tabantha landscape and endangered Rito lives, as well as damaged the spire Rito Village rests upon.”_

_“Troubling?” Zelda exclaimed. “Lives were in danger, and you call that ‘troubling’?”_

_“I beg your pardon?” Impa’s hard gaze turned on Zelda. “His Highness and I are discussing important matters, and you nitpick my word choice?”_

_Zelda opened her mouth, but Link beat her to the punch. “This matter is too important for a minor squabble.”_

_“I agree,” Impa replied. “Especially as the Rito’s trust in the Hylian throne plummets as a result of this danger. It’s the royal strategy that created this danger, after all.”_

_“And the Sheikah machines that catalyzed it.” Link turned to her. “Zelda, you and I shall set out first thing in the morning for Tabantha. We’ll have fears to soothe. Impa, please tell Purah to gather her hardiest scientists and set out for Rito Village, too. Hopefully they can provide assistance to Revali. For him to admit to having difficulties means they must be quite serious, indeed.”_

_“Of course, Your Highness.” Impa bowed from her waist. When she came up, she was giving Zelda the hairy eyeball again. “Are you sure your appointed knight will be sufficient for this journey? This situation requires delicacy and tact.”_

_“Yes.” Link’s voice was firm. “I trust no one more than my knight. Besides, the Rito are a blunt people; who better to talk to them?”_

_“Very well.” Impa nodded. Her eyes were narrowed, but she had a small, tight smile on her face as she left._

_Zelda was stunned. “Thank you,” she said, though the words sounded too small for his actions. “You didn’t have to defend me, though. That wasn’t your job.”_

_His smile was warm. “I was happy to,” he said. “Impa’s critique was off-base. I don’t understand why she said that.”_

_“Well.” She shifted her feet. “I tend to be very blunt.”_

_“Yes, but that’s a good thing, especially for a sheltered prince.” He smirked. “How else will I learn?”_

_Zelda’s cheeks warmed. She worked very hard not to be blunt once she learned she would be serving the crown prince. The court preferred delicate persuasion over brutal honesty; she could recognize physical threats but not those concealed in entendre and poetry. Link’s perception was uncanny, impressive, and very, very admirable. So why was someone so talented in wordplay so appreciative of blunt honesty?_

_“Are you all right?” Link’s words cut through her thoughts, his brow furrowed. “Did I upset you?”_

_“No, Link. I’m just grateful.” She didn’t recall choosing to smile, but she was very aware of how big her grin was. “I’ve never met someone who liked me running my mouth.”_

_“Oh, Zelda,” he said, voice full of earnestness, “that’s one of your best qualities.”_

Zelda took a page from Link’s book and carefully considered her words. She would not lie, even if her telling the truth was what had gotten her into this mess. But the truth and what the king wanted to hear were much more closely aligned.

So, she looked into the king’s eyes and said, “While I have not seen Link use his power, I do believe he will become a capable, caring ruler who will protect Hyrule to the death, if necessary. And I believe the Goddess will see his dedication and grant him any aid he needs.”

King Rhoam’s face darkened. “The Goddess has not been kind to us or to my son,” he said. “And yet as I place faith in her, I find that my faith in the prince is degrading each day. I asked you if you believe my son can protect Hyrule, and you have given me your answer.”

“Your Majesty—”

“You’re dismissed.”

Zelda left. The king was blunt and brutally honest with her, and she was reminded why that language in court was often unwelcome: because it sowed disbelief, doubt, and distrust.


	7. Shelter from the Storm

The threat of Ganon loomed more darkly over Hyrule as the royal preparations to fight him became more and more obvious each day. Hiding the purpose of the Divine Beasts was a fruitless venture—what threat could be strong enough to require four of those magnificent creatures to combat? The crown stopped hiding their machinations, and the citizens became worried and vindicated at the same time. They knew something was wrong, but they did not want to be right.

As such, Link began traveling much more frequently. His excellent manners and absolutely piercing perceptive abilities made him an ideal candidate for building foreign relations with the peoples of other provinces. Even the Rito elder, a cantankerous old crone called Komali who was definitely the most stubborn of an already hard-headed people, was charmed by him. It had taken all day to convince him that Vah Medoh would operate properly after the Sheikah researchers had conducted their repairs, and not without good reason. Vah Medoh was the Rito’s only real weapon against the Calamity: if every old story told that Ganon was slain by sword and only by sword, what hope could a race of archers have against him?

But Link had soothed his worries with detailed reports on how the other Champions were faring with the Divine Beasts, the army of Guardians the Sheikah researchers had brought to life, and finally Zelda’s own competency. “I have seen it myself, Elder Komali,” he said, planted in the highest, draftiest loft of Rito Village. “In fact, I am alive only because of her bravery and skill. Zelda has earned the right to the sword that seals the darkness, but even without it, I am confident in her ability defend Hyrule.”

Komali’s eyes narrowed as he toyed with a bright orange charm that hung from his neck. “And what of your own birthright, Your Highness?” he said. “Of the power descended from the royal line to seal Ganon away. You have a lot to say about the people fighting for you, but not for yourself.”

Link’s head lowered a fraction of an inch. Zelda, who was watching from the doorway, understood her charge’s body language well enough to know that Komali had hit a chink in his armor. “Of course my sealing power will aid us.”

“It’ll do more than aid us, I hope,” said Komali, leaning forward on his throne. “It is the final ingredient to this concoction, is it not? Everything else you described can wound Ganon, but only you can ensure he stays quiet for another ten thousand years.”

Link nodded stiffly. “I am aware, yes. The power is a divine gift by the goddess Hylia. I do not question it.”

“Of course not. After all, that divine power—and your ancestors’ ability to pass it down—was your family’s claim to the throne of the Hylians, and indeed their divine right to the throne of all of Hyrule. But I fear that some of my warriors are concerned it is merely an excuse.”

“Pardon!” Zelda stepped forward. “Forgive me for my intrusion, but Prince Link is here to ensure you that Hyrule is safe. He is not here for you to levy your accusations at!”

“Zelda.” She turned and found that perfect, unreadable mask back on his face. “That is exactly why I’m here.”

“I will not let him disparage your family!”

“If he cannot air his grievances without fear of repercussion, then Hyrule will have failed its people.” His mask hardened. “He will say what he must say. And I must hear it. Please return to your post.”

She gritted her teeth, but she did not dare look at Komali. “Yes, Your Highness.”

She marched back to the doorway and resumed her vigil, gripping the pommel of her sword even harder. She had taken the Master Sword from its place on her back to relax her shoulders while they were in safe territory, but every muscle burned with indignation. How dare Komali say something like that?

But Link took a deep breath and returned to face the elder. “Forgive my attendant and I, and please allow me to address your concerns.”

Komali gestured with a white wing. “Please. Of course, I do not believe such things, but I must reassure my people to the best of my ability.”

“Of course.” Link drew himself up to his full height. “The divine power passed down in my family is many things to us. It is a blessing, a sign of love from the Goddess, the ultimate protection of our people, and more. I regard it how I suspect many other carriers regarded it: as a responsibility as well as a burden.”

Komali frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“This power is dangerous,” said Link. “As is any gift from the Goddess in the right circumstance. It is my duty to learn to wield it with responsibility and concern for the people of Hyrule. I admit I do not fully understand it. I do not think my ancestors ever fully understood it, either. But I also suspect they resented it in part. 

“The sealing power is of immense importance to the safety of Hyrule. Please understand that I do not complain about my role; but being the last line of defense against Ganon is a heavy and, at times, frightening responsibility.”

Komali cocked his head to the side. Zelda had the terrible feeling that he hadn’t listened to half of what Link said. “Do you resent your power?”

Link hesitated. Zelda’s heart sank, but there was nothing she could do for him. “If there is anything I resent,” he began, “it is that I am the only prince in living memory to face Ganon. Wielding this power is a very lonely honor.”

He cleared his throat and added, “But I am not alone. I have our finest warriors and scholars working to assist me. Hyrule is well-positioned to defend itself.”

Komali regarded him for one long moment, and then he finally relaxed. It seemed his every muscle was tense, and that Link’s reassurance had made him a young man. “Very well. I do appreciate your honesty. I believe Hyrule could benefit a lot from honesty.”

“As do I.” His head lowered. “By your leave, my knight and I will take our supper and depart for the castle first thing in the morning.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” He waved one wing towards the doorway. “I hope you have found our lodgings adequate.”

“They are splendid,” said Link. “Thank you, Komali.”

They marched out of the elder’s chamber and down towards the Swallow’s Roost, the charming little inn that was hosting the prince and the knight free of charge. Zelda was fuming as they prepared their supper, eating in near silence until Zelda’s fury successfully warded off any Rito or travelers that would peek in to pay their respects. Link waited until they finished their meal, a simple stew Zelda prepared, to broach the subject.

“You’re still angry about what Komali said.” Link had finished unpacking another change of clothes and was readying them for tomorrow.

Zelda forcefully tossed the knitted woolen socks she’d packed onto her bed. “It was not my place to comment. I apologize.”

“I am grateful for your support, as always,” he said. “But Hyrule’s people must remain free to voice concerns. It is the only way we can have a fair and just rule.”

“Did he need to insult your family?” she hissed. “I have watched you train for ages. I am a product of the royal initiatives to defend us against Ganon’s rise. He had no right to insult you like that, least of all based on the actions of your ancestors! As if you had control of their actions!”

“Easy, Zelda,” he warned.

“Does he think you are incompetent? The nerve of him saying something like that to your face!”

“Zelda!”

“Link, he was out of line!”

“But what if he was right?”

That stopped her short. How could Link give into the rumors whispered into the ear of one Rito? King Rhoam’s words rang in her head again. _Do you believe my son can save us?_ “What are you talking about?”

“Zelda, I may not be fit to rule. It is a possibility.” He stood and went to the open window, hands grasping the banister until his knuckles turned white. He stared hard at the hills of Hebra in the distance. “A strong possibility.”

“It is _not.”_ She rounded her bed and joined him at the window but refused to partake in the view. Her eyes were locked on him. “I said it the first day I met you, Link, and I still believe it. You will make an excellent king one day! If not because of your dedication to your people and your willingness to learn, then at least because of your sealing power! That alone should prove you’re worthy!”

“ENOUGH!” He turned to her, his eyes hard and his façade cracked. He shouted loud enough to scatter the wild birds near their window, which fluttered as one mass into the sky. “Neither of us know what kind of king I’ll be!”

The whole of Rito Village seemed to still in the wake of his anger as if the prince had the power to strangle time itself. Indeed, the power of his wrath was stronger than any emotion she had seen yet from him; it was loud and explosive and targeted and aching. 

Zelda did not move. She was seeing an unspooling of the prince’s being, a reveal of the secrets hidden in the deepest chamber of his heart. This rage was not spur-of-the-moment: it had been bottled, packed, and preserved for a very long time, which had made it all the more potent.

Link made the first move. He turned away from her and clasped his hands behind his back. His feet were set a hair wider than usual. “It’s clear I’ve done you a disservice by keeping secrets from you, and that I have behaved like a petulant child to keep you in the dark. I bear no ill will toward you; in fact, I admire and trust you more than anyone. But this secret is a deep shame of mine, and I have worked hard to keep Hyrule as distant as possible from it.”

Pieces began to click into place in her mind. _Such a secret that defined his relationship to his own kingdom must have sat with him for a long time. Which means this was likely…_

“Is this the same reason you ran into Gerudo Desert that night?” she asked. This was the secret her curiosity was champing at the bit to learn, but she sensed a deep dread in Link now that she was about to pull it out of him. This information would come at a heavy cost.

He nodded. “Zelda, I am a danger to you, to my father, and to all of Hyrule. I—”

He turned to her, his face screwed up in pain and shame. “I have never been able to use the Goddess’ sacred sealing power. I have trained and meditated and prayed ever since I was six years old, but the Goddess refuses to bestow her power upon me. I am a failure of an heir to the royal family.”

Zelda’s courage had been forged in fire and gilded with blood, but it wavered so strongly that she was rocked off her feet. She stumbled away from him until she sank onto the edge of her bed, stunned and scared and completely foolish. Her attachment to Link had blinded her to that feeling in her gut that something was wrong, and that attachment was so strong that not even the king could destroy it. Only Link could show her that their worst fears were coming true.

Ganon would rise again. That was now a certainty. And the person Hyrule depended on most, its crown prince with the sacred sealing power, had never touched its divine splendor. He did not have the power. _Ganon would win._

Link sat opposite her on his own bed. “I have relentlessly pursued any possible method of earning that power. Praying to the Seven Goddesses was an option. And after you mentioned learning best in the heat of battle, the thought of putting myself in danger became an option, too. I wondered if I could unlock the power by activating a survival instinct. It was stupid, of course, but I was desperate. I’m still desperate.”

Hyrule would fall. People would die. And there was nothing Link could do! 

She mustered enough breath for her first question. “Why does no one know?”

“When my mother passed, my father questioned me ceaselessly on my spiritual training until I invented the lie that secrecy was important. It was the first time I was given the privilege of patience and privacy. But as the threat of Ganon grew and my kingdom depended more on me, I could not bear to reveal the truth.” He hung his head. “I am a coward, Zelda. I cannot stand up to my own father and I cannot be honest with my subjects. This is not the making of a good king.”

She took a deep breath. “All this time. So many people are counting on you, Link, and you wasted your time learning swordplay when our world hangs in the balance.”  
He turned those big blue eyes on her again. They were watering and soft, pleading and humble. “I did not indulge my curiosity because I did not want to focus. In fact, I think that training _helped.”_

“Helped?” she spat.

“It sounds counterintuitive, I know. But I could swear that training with you was the closest I felt to touching the power.” His fingertips touched his heart, and his eyes got that far-away look in them again. “When you first taught me how to hold a sword, I felt something stir and… _awaken_ within me. It is strong, powerful, and brash, and I know it is the closest I have ever been to touching Hylia’s power.”

“How?” She gestured widely, confused and frightened and angry. How could an idle curiosity of the prince’s tap into a sacred birthright? “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. Not completely. You have allowed me to lie to you up until now, but I must ask you again to help me.”

Enough lying. His lies had dug them into their own graves! “People need to know, Link. The king has to know so we can plan accordingly!”

“And what will my father do?” he replied. “Our defenses are as robust as they would be with or without my power.”

She was incensed. She had been in battles where commanding officers did not care to inform their footsoldiers of their chances. She had watched friends and compatriots die to arrogance like this! “Your Champions and your soldiers are walking into certain death! They deserve to know that!”

“I am doing all I can to protect my kingdom!” he retorted. “I care for my people’s lives!”

“Do you? Do you care that we’re scared of dying?” 

He stopped short. “You’re scared?”

“To death!”

He looked lost, like he hadn't predicted a failure of her courage in the face of annihilation. “I…I’m sorry.”

His face fell and silence fell with it. He was retreating into himself once again. All that trust and closeness between them was shattered. In asking for her confidence, he had betrayed his country. Zelda did not find the usual sympathy in her heart for Link.

And yet…

She knew Link was in a difficult position. His father would certainly take Link’s failing seriously, but he would also use it as ammunition against his son to humiliate him once again. When this pocket of respect was all he had. she doubted she would want to give it up, either.

He said swordplay training helped. What would it change if his father knew his secret or not? The late queen was supposed to be his teacher, but she died before she could pass on her wisdom. The king had no special knowledge that would bring out the Goddess’ light.

This would cause a panic. Hyrule would lose resolve and be primed for Ganon’s takeover. It was her job to stop that.

“Your swordsmanship,” she said slowly. “Do you really believe it’s leading you to the sealing power?”

He did something that she never anticipated: he got off the bed and knelt before her, head bowed in unwavering reverence.

“Your Highness!” she cried, but he grasped her hand and immediately she fell silent. “Zelda, I know I am a coward and a fool, too. But I beg you to continue to train me, and I say in total, honest sincerity that I believe your training me is the key to unlocking the sealing power. I do not order you as your prince. I ask you humbly as your pupil.”

Hyrule was defined by its belief in the goddess Hylia, who sculpted Hyrule itself according to the legends of long ago. As a result, Hyrule’s policies and peoples were deeply faithful in one way or another, either to Hylia, their own goddesses, or each other.

And Zelda saw Link’s absolute faith that this plan would work. She could not quantify why or how it would, but she saw unshakable bravery that had never manifested in him before. He believed in this, and he believed in her.

She pushed down the words of every commanding officer who ordered her to adhere to their strict policies. What mattered was loyalty and an equal measure of trust from her in Link. This was where it counted. “I am your appointed knight. I am charged with protecting your welfare, and the welfare of Hyrule.” She summoned her courage and felt a surge of iron will as she moved the hand he’d captured to grasp his. Startled, he looked up at her, and their eyes met. “I will be honored to continue to train you in order to earn your power and save Hyrule.”

He held her gaze for a long moment. Then a smile bloomed across his face, brighter and lighter than she had ever seen. “Thank you, Zelda,” he said as he climbed to his feet. With a tug to her hand, she rose with him until they stood eye to eye, hand in hand. “I do not understand it, but I know Hylia speaks through you, and I know you will guide me well. Hyrule is safe in your hands.”

“No.” She grasped his other hand and brought them together like young, carefree lovers. “Hyrule is safe in _our_ hands.”

She was the first person he had trusted since his mother passed. In admitting so, he had shifted part of his burden onto her. But was that not her job as his protector, to make his life easy and protect his health? Was it not her duty to eventually face Ganon in order to safeguard their kingdom?

Once again, her courage wavered. Link was very convincing, but could her tutelage truly be enough to save Hyrule?


	8. Father and Son

Zelda peered at Link over her training shield. “You’re fighting unusually conservatively today, Prince.”

“I’ve seen your shield work,” he replied as he circled her. She pivoted to keep her eyes on him but was glad the shield could hide her proud smile. “I know exactly what you’re capable of.”

“You mean the time those Bokoblins ambushed us? Oh, Link. That was so little of what I can do.”

His eyes narrowed and they had a devilish twinkle to them. “That’s not all you can do.”

“Wha—”

“Hyaah!”

His shield rammed into hers and forced her back a few paces. It caught her off balance, but not off guard—he had to stop telegraphing his plays like that! Right when he thought he’d gained ground with a snarky smile on his face, she bashed his shield in return and pushed him right back.

“Don’t get cocky, Your Highness. It’s not a good look on you.” It was a very good look on him. “You’ll get distracted.”

“No distractions. Got it.” He tried to bash her shield again, but she knew he was coming this time, so she side-stepped and allowed his shield to glance off hers. As he stumbled past her, she stuck her foot out and tripped him. He tumbled to the ground and tried to collect himself, but as he rolled over, sword in hand, he found the Master Sword already at his throat. She watched his blue eyes travel up the length of her blade to meet hers. He shook his head, a smile creeping upon his face, and muttered, “When I finally think I’m one step ahead of you…”

“You’re improving very quickly,” she said, extending a hand to him, “but you’ve still got a long way to go.”

He grasped her hand and she pulled him to his feet. “It doesn’t seem like improvement,” he said, “since I’m the one who ends up on the ground.”

“What’s important is how quickly you get back up. Even good soldiers get—pardon my language—knocked on their ass every once in a while.” 

“Oh, really? How many times have you been knocked to the ground?”

Zelda bit her lip. Raising an eyebrow, Link added, “Don’t make me pull rank, Zelda. I don’t want to order you to answer, but I will.”

“Fine.” Her cheeks reddened as she put away her sword. “Never. There, are you happy now that you know I’m a hypocrite?”

“No, I’m happy because I knew you’d say that.” He folded his arms. “The mechanics of your combat may be mysterious to outsiders like me, but I can still tell you’re the best fighter in Hyrule.”

“If I may be so bold,” she replied, “your father would accept no less for whoever protected his son.”

“Let’s not talk about him.” His smile grew strained. “If _I_ can be bold, I like talking about you.”

She felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you, Link. I’m flattered.”

“I’m glad.” The chains fell from his smile. “You know so much about me now, and if you’re willing, I’d like to learn about you.”

“You know all the important things. You know how I learned to fight.”

“That’s one thing I know about you.”

“You know what kind of teacher I am.”

“Two things, compared to everything you know about me.”

“You know I’m your friend.”

“Yes, Zelda.” His eyes softened. “You’re my closest friend, which is why I want to get to know you better. But I understand if you are hesitant, especially with how patient you were with me and my secret.”

His secret. The secret that threatened the welfare of Hyrule. Link’s lack of powers weighed heavily on her: it felt like she should run down the halls of the castle and scream it to anyone who listened. But all that would do was cause hysteria; besides, the king was content with not being privy to his son’s training regimen for years now, and they technically weren’t wasting time by training in swordplay, even if a Hylian prince learning it was highly unconventional. 

She shook herself. This moment of light was not worth sullying. She had a gut feeling that these would be few and far between in the near future. “What would you like to know?”

His face brightened. Her heart fluttered. “Anything.”

“Well.” She tilted her head. The prince had confided something in her that he had never told, so perhaps she could tell him something that few had ever known about her. “I can tell you about one of my greatest curiosities.”

He gestured to a low wall near the edge of the training yard, and they walked over to sit. Her tired legs were grateful for the rest. “I’m all ears.”

She beamed. “Do you know of the Lomei Labyrinths?”

He nodded eagerly. “The three ancient labyrinths tucked in the furthest, most brutal corners of Hyrule. Theories suggest they were built by the Zonai tribe.”

“Word perfect,” she said with a chuckle, “to the research. See, my father’s a researcher who studies the Zonai people. For a while, he consulted with those studying the Labyrinths to determine their origin. Ultimately, he didn’t study them long, but it was long enough for both him and I to become fascinated by them. We always wanted to go, but it’s such a dangerous journey that my military duties never allowed us to go. My hope is that once we avert the Calamity, we can finally see the Labyrinths.”

Slowly, like a very skittish kitten, Link’s hand covered hers and then grasped, and then squeezed. She looked at him in surprise and was met with a faceful of utter determination. “When we see Hyrule through Ganon’s threat,” he said, his voice low and firm, “I vow to make your journey to the Labyrinths as smooth as possible. That is my promise to you, Zelda.”

“Thank you, Link.” If nothing else, he had enough faith and enough stubbornness that, for this one moment, she could believe him. Perhaps Ganon would not be the end of Hyrule, not when Link was looking at her like that.

She flashed him a smile and turned his hand over, her fingertip tracing a rough patch of skin near his thumb. “Look at that. You’ve got a callus.”

He chuckled. “It’s about time. I was wondering when that combat training was going to pay off.”

_“Combat training?”_

Zelda turned, alarmed at the booming voice. In the door to the training yard stood King Rhoam with a stone-faced Impa behind him.

Link immediately shot to his feet. At the same time, Zelda knelt and bowed her head while dread balled up in her stomach.

The king’s footsteps drew closer and closer until his shadow fell over her and brought a chill with it. “Impa is one of my most trusted friends,” he said, “but hearing such a story from her—that the knight I had handpicked on the glowing praise of my top captains, was distracting my son with swordsmanship training—made me question her fitness to one day lead the Sheikah people. After all, something so ridiculous must be a hallucination!

“But here I find you two whiling away precious time with idle chitchat and swordplay! Is this a game to you, Zelda? You dare indulge my son in childhood fantasies while he ought to be honing his spiritual birthright?”

Zelda’s body was shaking. She could not tell if she was shaking in cowardice, anger, or shame. All her instincts fled her while she prayed for the Goddess to open the earth beneath her so she could be swallowed whole. She dared not move her head even an inch to the side but her heart cried out: _Is Link okay?_

“And you.” A shift of the king’s feet told her that he was now facing Link. “I cannot imagine why you have entertained this game this long. What possessed you to divert your focus like this?”

“W-we weren’t sparring,” said Link, his voice trembling.

“I can see your training sword in the dirt,” he replied, vitriol dripping from his voice. “Do not tell me I don’t know what is happening here. You have kept me in the dark for long enough! I want an honest answer out of you: why would you do this?”

Zelda could hear his sharp gasps and sense the absolute stillness in his posture as he retreated into his curated, perfect exterior. He was frightened out of his mind because he had come face-to-face with his greatest fear: his own father.

If she was anything worth the praise of her captains and her mother, she would bear the duty she was appointed to.

She lifted her head and locked eyes with King Rhoam. “It was my idea, Your Majesty. I thought it might provide him some leisure time outside of his studies. I beg your forgiveness and offer my deepest apology.”

King Rhoam’s face reddened. “Is this true? Link, did this woman convince you to step away from your studies?”

Link stood there, pale and frightened out of his mind, for a long moment. Then his feet shifted outward, his fists clenched at his side, and his voice returned. It was quiet, but there was no tremble. “No.”

An unnatural stillness settled over the training yard as father and son glared each other down, as imposing and immovable as the Dueling Peaks. King Link’s face grew redder and redder. Link’s fists trembled at his side. Impa was staring over the king’s shoulder, but she was not shocked. She seemed resigned at what was unfolding before her, as though she had no part in putting these events in motion. 

Link was the first to break the silence. “Zelda is the finest of our knights and the most deserving Hylian to be named our Champion. I will not allow her to sacrifice all the praise heaped upon her to protect me.”

King Rhoam’s voice was chilling. “So, this was your idea.”

“It was.” His hands had stopped trembling, and he stood firmly and evenly on his feet. “She expressed concern that it would be a distraction, but I asked her to train me anyway. She followed your orders, and it was I who asked her to disobey you.”

“To what end?” His face had gone a deep purple, vibrant in contrast to his milky white beard. “Why would you devote your time to useless pursuits when you must focus on honing the sealing power that will save our kingdom? This is how you train to ward off the Calamity?”

“It may as well be!”

“What in the _world_ do you mean by that?”

“That for all I know, combat training may be the key to accessing the power!”

The deep purple that filled the king’s face in mere moments vanished in a flash as he blanched. “What? Do you mean to say—?”

“Yes.” The tremble returned to his hands, just a little. “I have never been able to unlock the sealing power carried by the heir to the throne. I lied to you.”

The king’s voice rumbled like an oncoming avalanche. “You did not only lie to me. You lied to your Champions and to your kingdom, and by doing so, you endangered them. You have brought five of Hyrule’s greatest warriors into a path whose only end is suicide, and you have destroyed your kingdom through your inaction! When you asked for privacy, I trusted you, but you used it to hide your lack of progress from me?!”

_“You did not trust me!_ If you did, would you have ordered my own appointed knight to spy on me?”

“Zelda,” the king hissed as he turned towards her, “you told him?”

“She did not,” Link retorted, moving in front of her and into his father’s line of sight. “I figured it out. She was the first person to trust me, Father, and that is the only way I have managed to come close to unlocking the power!”

“Now you’re speaking gibberish. First you have never touched the power, and now you come close?”

“Yes! I cannot fully explain it, but when Zelda trains me, I can feel Hylia’s presence more strongly than ever!” Link’s voice had shifted into desperation. “I know she is the key to this power. I cannot say how, but I _know_ it.” 

“Can you produce the sealing power at this very moment?”

“N-no.”

The king glowered down his prominent nose at his son. “After admitting to lying to me for years, what makes you think I will take your word that this distraction is beneficial to you?”

He turned to Impa. “I would be much obliged if you could recommend some Sheikah warriors to fill the appointment for my son’s protector.”

Zelda’s heart broke. Link cried, “No! This isn’t her fault! Don’t punish her!”

“I am not punishing her: I am saving her life.” His cold gaze shifted to Zelda finally. “Her negligence has endangered Hyrule long enough. If she shows such dubious judgement when Ganon rises, her life is forfeit. Releasing her from duty protects her, and forbidding contact between the two of you protects you as well.”

“You can’t do that!” Link’s voice was thick. “There is no one I would trust with my life other than her. And she carries the sword that seals the darkness! You know she is worthy, because Hylia said so!”

“Your Majesty,” said Impa, her deep voice cutting through the tense air. “I am afraid that even the strongest of Sheikah warriors cannot possibly match Zelda’s skill. I have seen it myself when escorting my sister’s scientists. She is unparalleled with or without the sword that seals the darkness. I am confident that our other allies will feel similarly.”

“Will they not jump at the chance to recommend one of their fighters for this appointment?” said Rhoam through gritted teeth. “The Sheikah may remain loyal to the Goddess and her chosen fighter, but other peoples are not quite as faithful.”

“I am sure they would enjoy the honor that comes with the appointment,” she said, “but after pride has already created such great division among those leading the charge against the Calamity, I strongly believe that allowing the opportunity for power-grabbing and ego-stoking will only damage our cause. Zelda should remain in her appointment.”

King Rhoam heaved a great sigh. “Impa, your word is the only one I can trust. I believe it will do great harm, but allowing my son’s focus to drift so widely will harm Hyrule even more. Link, you will be accompanied by a retinue of knights on your diplomatic missions and spiritual training. Zelda, you are released from your duty of guarding my son. Please use your time to train for confronting Ganon—and be sure to train _alone.”_

“Father!” Link begged. “When I say this is the only thing that works, I mean it! You must allow me this!”

“Your mother entertained no such fantasies,” he snapped. “She prayed and studied. She did not play soldier! You will return to your former training methods.” 

He eyed Zelda and his lip curled. “Impa, remain with these two while I notify our Champions.”

“Your Majesty!” Impa grew concerned, which baffled Zelda something fierce. Why was she so upset when these circumstances were exactly what she’d orchestrated? And what did she stand to gain, anyway? “May I ask what you are telling them?”

“Exactly what we have learned,” said the king. “That their roles in protecting Hyrule have become much more dire. They need to know what is truly at stake.”

“Your Majesty,” she replied, “word will spread quickly about the prince’s condition. Faith itself in the throne will shake.”

“Perhaps we deserve that. I have entertained my son’s demands for privacy for too long; if annihilation is on our heels, they deserve to know.” He turned and stormed out of the training yard, leaving a shocked Impa and devastated Link in his wake.

Zelda finally rose. Her throat was dry, and her face was wet. She looked at Link, who had retreated so far into himself that he did not seem like _Link_ anymore. His eyes were hollow, his shoulders slumped; he was a shell of a prince and nothing like her friend.

Impa saw what Zelda saw, her eyes darting between prince and protector. “Remain here,” she said as she hurried after the king, leaving them alone in the training yard.

Link turned to her. He was devastated now that his crucial support was splintered and his deception laid bare. He met her eyes, and his own welled up with tears. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled him into her arms and embraced him with all her strength. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she whispered into his ear. “You did the best you could for yourself and your kingdom. That’s all anyone can ask of you. Just know that I am proud of you for your dedication and your skill as a swordsman. You are a capable prince who is destined to become a dignified king. Whatever happens, know that I was glad to be your knight.”

His arms tightened around her. Not as strong as her grip, but not as meek as she expected. “Thank you, Zelda. Know that I was thrilled to get to know you, and that I am grateful to count you as my friend.”

“Zelda!”

They broke apart instantly, and Zelda felt some of Link’s hollowness seep into her bones. Impa had reappeared in the training yard, a deep frown carved across her face. “The king bade me return to Kakariko Village to begin the search for a knight to fill your appointment. I would like you to join me.” She shrugged though her eyes betrayed the seriousness of their situation and the grief it inexplicably brought her. “Who better to understand what the job takes?”

“How long will you be gone?” Link choked out. 

“As long as it takes,” Impa said grimly.

Zelda knew she had no choice in the matter. She was a soldier of the king—until Ganon reared his head, she was powerless to fight her orders. Her voice was thick as she replied, “I would be honored to assist you.”

“Zelda,” Link whispered. He need not say more—she understood.

Impa nodded. “We leave at first light. Your Highness?”

“What?” Link snapped.

After all the chaos she had sown and all the heartache she caused, Impa had the nerve to smile. “All is not lost. Zelda, with me.”

Zelda cast one more forlorn look over her shoulder at her charge and her friend, and then she turned and followed Impa out of the training yard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big one today, everyone!!! Let me know what you think of everything that's happened--from here, the story will be pretty different from in BOTW, though the bones of each memory will still be there. Let me know what you think!


	9. Slumbering Power

Hyrule was different now that it knew Link’s secret.

The news that Link had never touched the sacred sealing power had traveled through the kingdom as if carried on the wind. It certainly spread quick enough for Zelda to notice how, as she and Impa rode to Kakariko Village the next day, residents of Hyrule Castle Town did not flock to watch them march. Before they would fall over themselves in their desperation for a peep of the crown’s plans; now the streets were deserted and the few citizens out and about either threw dirty looks at them or ignored them all together. In a way, Zelda was grateful for their spite and their anger: it might lead to resilience.

Kakariko Village was slow and sleepy. Nestled in a grassy mountain clearing protected by sheer peaks, the Sheikah village offered bounties of food, warm beds to sleep in, and complete safety. Instead of resenting Zelda, the locals were kind to her, but they treated her like she was terminally ill and constantly looked at her with sadness in their eyes. Bizarre behavior for a tribe she had helped the royal family deceive! But they wished her well and then went onto their business as if she hadn’t condemned them to die. The Sheikah guards remained vigilant and treated Zelda both as a comrade and a citizen. 

Impa kept her busy, despite the utter lack of business Zelda could attend to. Impa insisted that Zelda continue her training exercises but refused to discuss matters of the crown with her. Impa wanted Zelda to accompany her to the Sheikah Shrine on the hill, to the solemn graveyard, to the Goddess Statue right across from Sheikah Manor but hardly uttered a word. Not without trying, though—Zelda forgot her place in her curiosity and hit the Sheikah elder with a barrage of inquiry.

“Have you heard word from His Majesty the King?” Silence.

“How are the Champions faring with the Divine Beasts?” Silence.

“Have you selected a knight to protect Prince Link?” Silence.

Impa had brought her here ostensibly for help in identifying Link’s next protector, but she seemed determined not to do that. As a result, Zelda was useless: she had nothing to do and no one to protect! Why drag her to this mountain pass if she acted as decoration?

She started to piece together the truth when she escorted Impa to the Great Fairy Fountain to pray. Zelda had never heard of praying to the Great Fairies—they were a great deal more direct than prayer when rupees were involved—but Impa sought unusual counsel from her.

The Great Fairy Cotera lorded above Impa in the clearing, her great swath of white hair cascading over her shoulder. Her jewelry glimmered in the morning light, though her expression grew more and more surly as Impa’s questioning went on.

“No, I have had no communication with the Goddess Hylia,” Cotera said with a deep scowl. “Not since times of old. She stationed my sisters and I in the corners of Hyrule, charged us with watching over it, and then left us with our orders.”

“Can you communicate at all with the Goddess?” Impa pleaded.

“As I have already answered, no!” She waved her massive arm in irritation. Her pinky finger caught the edge of her pool and caused a sizable splash over the rim, soaking the grassy ground the Fountain stood on. “I can protect your tribe and your town, Impa, but I cannot give you the impossible. My power is vast, but all power has limits!”

Impa bowed her head. “Thank you for your audience, Great Fairy Cotera, and for your patience and generosity with my questions. I am very grateful for your service to Kakariko Village.”

Cotera disappeared into her flower without another word.

Zelda and Impa were silent as they marched back to the village. Zelda returned to her training in the hills of the village while she watched Impa chitchat with villagers.  
Zelda knew the Great Fairies worked much more closely with mortal matters than eternal ones. They granted protection and wisdom when asked; nobody pretended they had any link to the Goddess anymore. But if everybody knew that, surely Impa did, too. 

And if that didn’t catch her curious ear, then watching the shrewd and often silent Impa _chitchat_ with the villagers certainly did. She only spoke when she needed to, so what did she have to say?

Zelda’s next clue came in the form of Purah, the intelligent and eccentric scientist who was spearheading the research on the ancient Sheikah Guardians. She was Impa’s older sister but was not the head of the village. Zelda was awfully curious about that, too, but that puzzle was hardly the priority.

Purah was not visiting her sister on stately matters but familial ones. Their supper was full of tale-swapping and bubbly chatter mainly from Purah, though Impa had her fair share of the spotlight. Purah had insisted on the knight’s inclusion at the table—after all, a reunion was in order.

“It is good to see you again, Zelda,” said Purah. “I’m glad Kakariko’s treating you well. Your absence from the castle is quite apparent.”

Her ears perked. She and Purah rarely crossed paths—just how far did Zelda’s impact reach? “Is it?”

“Oh, of course. Prince Link rarely leaves his chambers now that he has no appointed knight. And I hear he says nothing when he comes to the table for supper.”

Zelda’s heart broke. Link had become so confident as their training progressed, only to return to the same darkness that had plagued him for so long. 

“Perhaps his studies have hit a standstill,” said Impa.

“Probably. He was pursuing some unusual means of training.” Purah cast Zelda a sidelong glance. “You ought to come back to the castle soon, dear sister. You have a better grasp of spiritual matters than I, and the prince needs as much assistance as he can get.”

“There is nothing I can do.” Impa slurped down another spoonful of thick pumpkin soup. “Our people need a liaison here, especially when the Great Fairy is so troubled.”

“Troubled?” Purah’s owlish eyes, magnified a great deal by her spectacles, widened. “How?”

“According to her, the Goddess is strengthening her bonds with the Great Fairies because she feels danger looming ahead. Cotera fears she is preparing for disaster.”

“Oh, dear.” Concern filled Purah’s face, but so did concentration. She fell silent for the rest of supper which gave Zelda the feeling that the researcher’s brain was scrambling for a logical connection. It was a very familiar feeling.

When Purah was sleeping off a full belly in the upper floor of Sheikah Manor, Zelda asked Impa, “Why did you lie to her about the Great Fairy?”

Impa froze with a pile of dirty dishes in her arms. “I beg your pardon?”

“You lied to Purah about the Great Fairies’ connection to the Goddess. Why?”

“For the betterment of Hyrule.” Her face melted into something close to warmth. “I hope you are better at keeping secrets than my sister. I humbly ask you to keep your observation to yourself.”

Zelda said nothing but Impa had her answer, so she swept away with the dishes.

Days passed. Purah returned to the castle, Kakariko Village bustled, and Zelda trained and assisted and trained some more when she had nothing else to do. For Impa to lie about the Great Fairy like that—and to her sister, no less!—was baffling. Why was Impa doing it, and why now, when Hyrule’s fate hung in the balance?

Zelda received her answer in the form of her third clue: the first casual conversation she and Impa shared since her transfer. Impa was studying an atlas of Hyrule and making notes of easily defensible paths in the woods—Zelda knew escape tactics when she saw them. Impa flipped the page and then stalled on an illustration of a mountain, ruminating for a long moment. Then she looked up at her and asked, “Have you ever been to Mount Lanayru?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Come look.” She turned the book around to face Zelda, who knelt before Impa’s throne. The illustration was beautifully drawn, but it rendered the mountain differently than she had ever seen. Instead of coming to a sharp point, the mountain’s peak seemed to house a pond. “What is that?”

The corner of Impa’s mouth lifted. “Hyrule’s best-kept secret. It is the Spring of Wisdom.”

The Spring of Wisdom! Zelda’s father had studied the Springs of Courage and Power when she was younger, more as an idle curiosity than scholarly puzzle-solving.   
Legends said that Hyrule itself was sculpted by the virtues of power, wisdom, and courage, and her father said it made no sense that there was no Spring of Wisdom to be found. If these two could outlast time, surely the third could!

And it had, but…“Why is it a secret?”

“Mount Lanayru is a brutal climb.” Impa explained. “Rumors ran wild that it could awaken incredible spiritual power within you and create a connection to the Goddess, which was how many devotees lost their lives in scaling it. Some centuries ago, the Hylian throne was forced to forbid visits to the Spring or even speaking about its existence. The only ones who know of it are those who have deeply studied Hyrule’s history and the Hylian royal family themselves.”

Impa scowled. “Though that, too, is under threat.”

Zelda thought over everything she knew about the Sheikah elder: she was quiet, clever, faithful to the Goddess, and careful in cultivating the king’s trust in her. When King Rhoam ordered Link and Zelda to separate, Impa had been the first to swoop in and decide Zelda’s fate. Without her endorsement, Zelda would likely have remained under careful watch in Hyrule Castle until the time came to bear the sword that seals the darkness.

And suddenly, it all came together. Impa’s clear willingness to go against the king, despite her loyalty to him; the deception to her blabber-mouth sister; the quick securing of Zelda’s position in Kakariko—it all made sense!

The answer tore out of Zelda like it had a mind of its own. “You’re on Link’s side!”

Impa’s eyes widened and her lips pursed. Zelda continued, “You’re not actively working against King Rhoam, but you don’t think he’s got it right. You brought me here so I would be close to Mount Lanayru, and you wove that deception about the Great Fairies and the Goddess so your sister would bring it back to the king!”

Her racing thoughts slowed; she had figured out the concrete means, but not the ends. Lying to the king and getting Zelda up a mountain must serve the same goal, but what was that goal? If it was to hide her ascent from the king, Impa would be better off telling her sister nothing. “But why?”

“You’re so close.” Impa was smiling now, and it was the first time she had seen true blue honesty on her face. “There’s one more element here. You of all people should know not to underestimate him.”

Chaos erupted outside suddenly. People were shouting while the shrill whinny of a horse rose above everyone’s alarmed cries, with heavy hoofbeats thundering closer and closer to the manor. Without thinking, Zelda bolted through the front door, arm reaching over her shoulder for her sword—

And she saw Prince Link upon a dazzling white horse, hurrying to calm the villagers he had startled with his sudden entrance.

“My deepest apologies, people of Kakariko!” He leaped gracefully from the horse and bowed to them, which sent a ripple of scandalized chatter through the shocked Sheikah. “I do not mean to alarm you.”

Under his traveling cloak he wore pure-white linens and gleaming golden bracelets emblazoned with the herald of the royal family. This was his sacred prayer garb, which she’d seen him wear when praying to the Seven Goddess statues and never again. This time, though, he wore a broadsword on his back, whose gilded hilt glimmered in the sunset as he turned toward Sheikah Manor. His eyes alit on Zelda and a smile brighter than the sun spread across his face.

She started thundering down the long flight of stairs at the same moment he rushed headlong up them. They met in the middle of the stairs in a firm embrace, and it was half a miracle they didn’t topple all the way back down. Link had grown steadier on his feet.

“Zelda!”

“Link!”

They separated, and Zelda realized his smile was infectious. Her cheeks hurt with how hard she was beaming. “What are you doing here? Where’s your guard?”

“I came alone.”

“You _what?”_

“I came alone.”

“That’s so reckless of you!”

“You trained me well, Zelda. I defended myself well on the trip here, and all of our sneaking around to train paid off, too. I left the castle without raising the alarm.”

Now her smile dropped. “No one knows you’re here?”

“I expect His Majesty will put the pieces together before long.” They looked towards the top of the stairs, where Impa waited with her own smile—smaller, gentler, prouder—on her face. “The tale of the Great Fairy will reach his ears just like it reached yours.”

Zelda’s jaw dropped. It all made sense. Impa’s lie wasn’t targeting the king, but the prince!

And for the first time, she truly appreciated and understood her. Impa’s smile deepened, and she said, “I believe your knight has reached certain conclusions, Your Highness. I would be honored if you would come into Sheikah Manor with me to discuss it.”

They trooped into the manor once Link’s horse was taken to the stable (where Zelda fancied that her horse was relieved to see the prince’s once again) and sat before the elder’s throne. Her severe expression had returned, though without the hard edges that accompanied it in Hylian court. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I have deceived you. I sought in earnest for any benefit to praying to our Great Fairy, but her connection to the Goddess is weak. I doubt you will learn anything from her.”

Link frowned. “Purah said otherwise.”

“Because I wanted her to believe otherwise.” She sighed. “My sister is terrible at keeping secrets, but her loose lips helped my cause in this instance.”

“Which was?” he asked.

“To bring you out here. I admit I counted on your desperation to ensure you came here alone, because I could not risk telling you this in Hyrule Castle. Your father forbade passing down the secret of the Spring of Wisdom.”

Impa told the prince everything about the Spring of Wisdom: its origin, its location, its difficult journey, and its tightly maintained secrecy. “King Rhoam feared you would risk your life and the lives of knights in trying to reach the Spring, so he ordered the secret to be kept from you.”

Link’s face was utterly expressionless, and his eyes had that far-away look in them. “And you’re telling me this now because you’re afraid of Ganon.”

She bowed her head. “Forgive me.”

“You’re right to be afraid. The Calamity could strike any day.” He drew himself up to his full height and he seemed to return to the room that encased them, becoming fully rooted into the moment. “It may be my last shot at unlocking the sacred power, which means we must make haste for this mountain.”

“Link!” Zelda gasped. “Mount Lanayru is a brutal climb.”

“Which was my second purpose for lying to you, Prince Link,” said Impa. “You are reckless, and I know that if I slipped the secret of Mount Lanayru to you, you would try to climb it on your own. Even the best of us cannot climb alone.”

She gestured to the knight. “You need Zelda.”

He stared at Impa long and hard, and then he _smirked._ “You do not know me as well as you think you do.”

“What?” Impa balked. “Forgive me, Prince, but I do not understand.”

“I did not know about the Spring of Wisdom, but I knew Mount Lanayru’s inhospitable reputation.” He folded his arms. “I am not so careless that I would attempt the climb without my knight.”

“But your flight here!”

“Kakariko Village is a day’s ride through safe territory. It was no problem now that I know how to defend myself.” His eyes slid to Zelda, and they both exchanged a smile. “Zelda has taught me how to confront things out of my depth. I know I cannot do this without her.”

Impa blinked, and then her shock melted into warmth. “I am glad I underestimated you. When will you set out?”

He looked to Zelda. “What do you think?”

She instinctively clasped her hands behind her back and planted her feet more firmly on the floor. “In my expert opinion, the king’s knights are surely on your tail already. We have only so much time to maintain that lead, not to mention that it’ll shrink considerably when we reach rougher territory. I’d say we ought to head out as soon as we can once we prepare enough food and gear to last us on the mountain.”

“All right,” Link said with a nod. “We leave in no later than an hour. I’ll see about preparing food and elixirs. You visit the shops here and find whatever warming gear we can scrape up.”

“Kakariko Village will provide you what you need, free of charge.” Impa stood from her perch. “I will be honored to assist you, Prince Link.”

“Thank you, Impa.” He inclined his head. “But I must ask if you are sure of this. In helping me, you are drawing my father’s ire.”

“Your Highness, I serve my people and Hyrule, but I serve the Goddess most of all. It is in her name that I do this.” She bowed deeply. “I beg your forgiveness in behaving so harshly to you and your appointed knight before. I thought that pushing you directly may help you access your power in some way.”

Zelda gasped. All that ill will, and it was all an act? “You really thought that could work?”

“In a roundabout way, it did.” That smirk returned to Link’s face. “I know, Impa. I knew what you were doing.”

“You did? You did!” Zelda let out a graceless whoop. It looked like the only one not on the same page was herself! “You’re both in another league than I. I’m not cut out for all this courtly deception and perception. Link, we should get cracking if we want to leave in an hour.”

“You’re right,” said Impa. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll see to your supplies.”

She started to lead them out of the manor. And as Link and Zelda followed, their eyes met, their smiles broadened, and their hands joined. No words need pass between them; they were two parts of one whole, two pursuers of the same goal.

“I’m glad you came all the way out here,” she said. “I missed you, Link. Even if the Great Fairy isn’t connected to the Goddess, maybe you can still say a quick prayer to her.”

“Come on, Zelda.” His eyes brightened when he said her name, as though he was happy to address her with it again. “I think you’re underestimating me, too.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you knew all this time about the Great Fairies!”

He nodded, and she gasped. “Then why in the world did you come at all?”

His smile deepened, and then they left the manor, descended the stairs, and prepared for their journey to Mount Lanayru.


	10. To the Peak of Mount Lanayru

Zelda and Link set out for Mount Lanayru with full saddlebags and thudding hearts. They followed a half-hidden path at breakneck speeds in the hills of Kakariko Village, which led them under the West Gate and across the Promenade too quickly to appreciate the glittering river or cascading waterfalls. Their journey was simple but not easy; their supplies weighed down their horses who were already tired from their fast pace. The riders hardly spoke except to explain their route and decide when to set up camp.

They reached the edge of the Naydra Snowfield at sunset the next day. It was picturesque and beautiful with its pine trees and rocky formations jutting out of the earth, which made it very good at deceiving naïve travelers. “We ought to camp here tonight,” said Zelda, tugging her horse to a stop. “It will only grow colder as we near the mountain. This will be our last warm night for a while—and our last night with the horses. We ought to rest.”

Link stared up at Mount Lanayru, savage and chilling, and then asked, “How long will it take to cross the Snowfield?”

Her eyes scanned the landscape. Deep snow, but few beasts that would impede their progress. “We’ll have to go on foot from here, but the base of the mountain’s not far. Three hours at most.”

“We’re working on borrowed time.” He looked over at her. “By your leave, I would prefer we cross the field and then make camp for the night. Then we can begin our climb in the morning.”

“Very well.” She dismounted her horse and started unloading their saddlebags, which had marginally lightened since they started. “We ought to change into our winter gear now.”

The shops in Kakariko Village had tripped over themselves to supply the prince and his knight. Among the hearty stews, the magical elixirs, the bow and the absolute avalanche of arrows stuffed into their bags, the shopkeepers and craftspeople of Kakariko had gifted them two sets of wintry clothing perfect for scaling the mountain. 

Zelda tossed Link his set and added, “I’m afraid they’re not quite the finery you’re used to, but they’ll have to do.”

“I fled my own castle on the threat of treason,” he replied with that charming coy smile of his. “I’m a long way from finery.”

Once they had changed, repacked their most essential supplies, and left the horses to graze in a nearby clearing, Zelda and Link began to cross the Naydra Snowfield. The snow was thick and difficult to traverse, but they closely followed the cobblestone path from where it peeked out under the densely packed fluff. The Snowfield was surprisingly bare of monsters which sped their progress along; they managed to reach the base of Lanayru without interference. They cleared snow from a portion of stone, set up camp, and lay down to sleep. 

They set off an hour or two past dawn the next morning, packing quickly when they realized how late they’d slept and starting up the mountain. The thick snow slowed their climb and reduced their visibility from the get-go, but they continued their determined, resolute march in the blistering winds and freezing cold. Zelda led the charge by virtue of being able to react to danger at a moment’s notice, but Link was undoubtedly the carthorse that propelled them forward. He had to ascend this mountain, and she would clear the way for him to do it.

The road wound up the mountain, redoubling on itself in neat and tidy loops. In time, they came upon a snowdrift—or what Link thought was a snowdrift until Zelda noticed it twitched. 

“Link!” She threw her arm out to stop him, but the trap was sprung: a Lizalfos leaped from its camouflage with a vicious bladed boomerang in its claws. Zelda elbowed the prince backwards and then rushed into battle, avoiding the slices of the boomerang and the arcing icy projectiles that burst from the creature’s throat by running in a zig-zag pattern. She loosed the Master Sword from its scabbard and cut the Lizalfos down in one clean, powerful strike. 

“Watch for their secretions,” she said to Link, wiping the dark blood from her blade. “They’ll freeze you in place in a second, and a second of stillness could be your last second alive.”

He nodded, staring at the lifeless lump. His hand closed around the hilt of his sword. “They’re very clever.”

“Yes. Which is why we should be more careful.”

They continued their climb in silence, but she could sense the activity buzzing in Link’s mind. It wasn’t until they rounded the next bend that brought them to the northern face of the mountain that he said, “I have a question.”

“Ask it.”

“You had the bow. Why did you kill that Lizalfos with your sword? It could…fire, I think is the word, those secretions at you, and its weapon looked quite dangerous. Using the bow was much safer but you decided against it.”

Zelda thoughtfully traced the edge of the bow that hung from her hip. “I did not decide. Not consciously, anyway.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I know how to shoot, so don’t mistake my preference for ability. But…” Now she traced the edge of her sword, which she had trained for years and survived the Lost Woods to earn the right to wield. “I understand a sword better. I feel more comfortable with it. To me, a bow is all learned technique and skill. A sword feels like natural instinct.”

“Hmm.” And then silence fell again. This silence was not uncomfortable or loaded like the ones at the beginning of their relationship when he resented being observed and she toed the line between protector and spy; this was familiar and, in a strange way, knowing. Despite his lack of skill in battle, despite his propensity for secrecy, and despite his talent for seeing completely and utterly through her, she trusted him absolutely. That had never happened to her before.

They stopped to rest and eat a little past noon, heating the pumpkin stew from Kakariko over the barest flames they could conjure. With full bellies and rested muscles, they continued their trek, following the steep incline as they rounded the mountain and walked along its western cliffs. More beasts awaited them, Lizalfos and Keese and ChuChus that threatened to chill them to the core if they got too close. Zelda made liberal use of the bow as they proceeded forward, killing creatures in one shot and causing great bursts of icy magic as they died.

The volume of creatures increased as well as their density which slowed their progress something awful. Zelda was cleaving through Lizalfos by the handful, but she could work only so quickly. Bizarrely, to Zelda, it was slow but tedious, and nothing like the reputation she’d heard of this mountain from Impa. It was threatening, but it seemed that she was more than a match for it. Or…

Zelda did not know what to make of fate or faith anymore. She had seen Link struggle with the weight of his destiny and had never put stock in how people exalted her for being the chosen bearer of the sword that seals the darkness. It was something people said but not something she herself _felt._ But climbing this mountain with Link in tow felt right in a strange but familiar way. Was this her calling? And what was the _this_ she referred to?

Link’s hand on her shoulder shook her out of her reverie. He was pointing to a dark shape emerging from the air thick with snow. “Someone’s coming!”

Zelda loaded her bow. “Not just any someone.”

The shadow burst from the fog. In a sleek, acrobatic spin in the air, he dislodged his massive bow from his back and nocked three sizzling bomb arrows into it. Revali the Rito Champion locked eyes with Zelda; he grinned with savage pleasure, probably enjoying the image of the stripping of her knighthood, and then he took aim at the path just ahead of them.

She loosed her own arrow in the split second before he fired. Hers pierced his wing and made him flinch in the moment he let his bolts fly, changing their target from the path before them to the snow above them.

The bomb arrows collided squarely with the mountain. The force of the blast blew Zelda and Link off their feet and then rippled out to the rest of Lanayru. A wounded Revali spiraled westward and then disappeared into the flurried air. The mountain crumbled, the snow on its peak trembled, and the avalanche started, cascading down the peak and heading straight for them.

The snow swept towards them, over them, around them. Zelda stared at impending death careening towards them, raining down from the peak they so desperately needed to reach. She could fight Lizalfos, Yiga soldiers, and maybe even Ganon, but she could not fight this. 

Then Link cried, “Zelda!” and she jumped into action.

She grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the edge. “Hold onto me!” she yelled over the roar, unsheathing her sword.

Link didn’t scream and he didn’t even hesitate as they leaped over the cliff edge into swirling oblivion. In the weightlessness of their fall, his arms wrapped around her waist and held fast. Zelda reached out blindly and managed to find purchase on the cliff face, her fingertips brushing against the rough rock. Ignoring the laws of physics, ignoring the difficulty of this maneuver, ignoring the certainty of their deaths if she failed, Zelda plunged the Master Sword into the rock with all her might.

Gravity kicked in once again. Her and Link’s weight on her wrist almost pulled her hand off the sword’s handle, but she managed to reach out and cling to the mountain with her other hand. Her feet soon followed after. The avalanche consumed them and threatened to pull her from her handholds, but the Master Sword was sturdy, and its bearer was determined to survive. Link’s arms remained braced around her waist as if bound, his face buried in her side. 

It seemed like an eternity until the torrent subsided. The sky cleared and the avalanche rumbled in her ears still as she asked, “Are you okay, Link?”

His voice was muffled. “Yes. You?”

“Yes. Are you a confident climber?”

A moment, and then, “No.”

She had guessed as much, but she figured she’d ask on the off chance this wouldn’t be as hard. “Did you pack rope?”

“No.”

She sighed. “Jettison the rest of our supplies.”

“What?”

“I can climb up with your weight, but not the weight of all our supplies.” Even now her hand was aching from clamping the Master Sword so hard. “Hurry!”

He did as he was told, unfastening their food and bedrolls from their backs and allowing them to fall away. They fell so far that they disappeared from view even with the clear sky. The weight lessened and the task simplified, but Zelda still had a hard climb ahead. “Hold on,” she said, pulling her sword from the rock and replacing it in its scabbard. “And for Hylia’s sake, try not to move.”

The climb up was arduous and treacherous. Zelda climbed hand over hand up the mountain with two bodyweights to carry and tiny handholds to grab onto. If she focused too long on the fact that the prince’s life hung in the balance as well as hers, her hands would tremble, her palms would sweat, and her chest would hurt something terrible. _Do not think of him. Do not think of failing him. Do not think of a Hyrule without him._

Her foot slipped on a slick patch and they slid six feet downward. Link gasped and held her more tightly. “It’s all right,” she said, feeling not at all all right. “I’ve got us.”  
She began her climb again, retreading familiar handholds until she surpassed the spot she’d fallen and kept climbing. Inch by inch, foot by foot. Breath by heaving breath.

Zelda was almost caught off-guard when she reached up and was met by the edge of the path. She heaved herself over the edge, clawing at the path with tired fingers, and pulled the prince to safety. She flopped onto her back in the snow, her whole body aching as dear Link cleared piles of snow away. “If you’ll allow me,” he murmured, snaking one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees. With the gentleness of a nurse, he lifted her from the soaking snowdrift she’d collapsed on and into the cleared space.

She smiled up at him. “Thank you, Link.”

“Least I could do.” Then he flopped down beside her, chest heaving.

Zelda looked back up at the sky and thought of Revali’s absolute pleasure in barring their way. Still, she felt a shot of guilt in wounding him until he remembered that Mipha was likely nearby and would be able to heal him in a snap. 

“Why was Revali here?” he panted. “We’re about as far from Hebra as we can be.”

“You slipped out of the castle under cover of night,” she replied. “When ordinary soldiers weren’t able to keep up with us, His Majesty would certainly send out his Rito Champion to scout.”  
Link sighed. “Which means the other Champions are on their way, too. My father would send them to spite me. If the future and present leaders of Hyrule answer to his beck and call, then I should, too.”

He turned to her, blue eyes filling with disappointment. “Knowing the danger now, I would not blame you for wishing to turn back.”

She thought of King Rhoam and how likely it was that he’d sent the Champions to capture and return them to Hyrule Castle. Link would be punished severely and Zelda stripped of her honors and accolades. She knew that was the deal when she fled Kakariko with Link, with all the punishment and dishonor the king could muster. The choice was easy in that moment.

And it was easy now, too.

With a groan, she heaved herself into a sitting position. “I didn’t expect to get thrown off a mountain, but I’ve been through worse. If you want to continue, then let’s continue.”

He smiled, climbed to his feet, and offered her his hand. “Come to think of it, that avalanche may have done us more good than harm.”

“How so?” She took his hand and he lifted her smoothly to her feet.

He gestured broadly around. “What creature would hang around after a lethal avalanche? I think our way ahead will be clear.”

“Now you’re thinking like a soldier.” She massaged her hands and rolled her shoulders. “Let’s get going.”

He was right, it turned out. All manner of creatures not killed by the avalanche had fled, which made their march to the mountain’s peak much easier. They would have massive snowdrifts to contend with on the way down, but even if King Rhoam sent the other Champions after them, Revali had himself ensured that none of them could follow them up Mount Lanayru!

They marched up the mountain higher and higher, wading through snow until they finally reached the Spring of Wisdom in late afternoon. Pillars of ice enclosed the sparkling pond and created a translucent temple for Link to pray in, presided over by a magnificent statue of the Goddess. 

Link was elated when his eyes fell on the Goddess statue, beaming as bright as the water. “Thank you, Zelda,” he said. “You saved Hyrule.”

“Hardly.” She bowed her head and gestured to the pond with an outstretched arm. “I brought you here, Your Highness. It was my honor. And it will be my honor to guard you as you pray.”

She sneaked a smile at him only to see him bowing to her in return. “Once I unlock my powers, it will be my honor to bring you a better Hyrule.”

He straightened up and began stripping off his outer layers, revealing the thin linen prayer garb that now clung to his skin with sweat. “Are you sure you shouldn’t stay dressed?” she asked.

“I will be waist deep in that water,” he replied, “and wet snow clothes can actively endanger me.”

As though wearing a bedsheet on the peak of a mountain would do him any favors. “Very well, Link. I’ll keep watch.”

Her arm was still smarting from her cliffside climb, so she took her sword off her shoulder and planted its point at her feet. She had guarded him similarly once upon a time, straining to listen to him train through his chamber door. He had been an enigma to everyone in Hyrule Castle, including her; now she was his confidant, his friend, and his very literal partner in crime. She couldn’t imagine a better person to be.

Link prayed silently for a long time, spending the rest of the day in the Spring of Wisdom. As the sun slipped below the horizon, he began to whisper quietly under his breath, quick and harsh as he pled for the Goddess’ help. And as night fell, his prayers grew louder and desperate as the Goddess ignored him. He had climbed this mountain and braved its dangers for not a godly word in return.

Zelda wanted to believe that this was the right thing to do. The Spring of Wisdom was a shiny new opportunity to touch the Goddess’ power, and it was doing nothing! Link had staked his freedom and kingdom on his faith in the Goddess, but all she did to reward him was freeze him on a deadly mountain. Zelda’s heart broke—this meant everything to Link, only for it to be nothing.

As a deeper cold set in, Zelda called over her shoulder, “Staying in the water any longer may threaten your health.”

He didn’t answer. “Link?”

Still no answer. She turned and found him, skin pearl-white against the night, his body a taut, shivering, hunched mess in the spring.

Gasping, she dropped her sword and ran into the spring. She was waist deep when she met the prince, whom she wrapped her arms around and tugged towards dry land. He did not walk with her, but he did not put up a fight, either. He hardly seemed to inhabit this body anymore; his limbs moved like rusted metal, and his voice sounded holey and hollow when he used it.

“I failed,” he murmured. “Not even the Spring of Wisdom could unlock my powers.”

“You did not fail,” she said, though she could not tell if she was reassuring him or herself.

She brought him out of the pond, grabbed his woolen trousers, and lay them on the snow. She guided him down to sit on the cloth while she retrieved his coat and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Warm up,” she said as she sat beside him, pulling him into her embrace. They had no food or wood, having lost it all in the avalanche, but they did have each other.

“We cannot survive a night up here with no supplies,” she said, “especially when you’re half hypothermic.” 

“My power,” he whispered with blue lips. “I can’t leave without my power.”

“You can’t stay and keep your life.” They were reckless and irresponsible; they had played their last card and lost the game. All that was left was to get back down the mountain in one piece, and then…return to Kakariko? Go into hiding? Turn themselves in?

He buried his ice-cold face into her shoulder. “I’m a failure of a prince,” he murmured. “I’m nothing if I can’t access the sealing power.”

“You are not, Link, but what you will be is an icy corpse if we don’t get moving.” She pulled back from him, cradling his face with one gloved hand. “We have to go. Mount Lanayru will kill us if we stay the night. If not for your own safety, then mine.”

He stayed silent for a long moment, plaintive eyes on her. She saw that disappointment in his eyes, and the breaking down of years of scrupulousness in the face of loneliness.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m ready. I have some feeling, but redressing might take a moment.”

“I’ll help you.” In a mournful, solemn silence, she helped him dress again in his wintry garb and they descended Mount Lanayru, leaving behind the one thing Link had had left to try. Zelda’s heart beat in her ears and her stomach tightened with nerves, as though she were about to march into battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter today! What did you guys think?


	11. Return of Calamity Ganon

Despite the monsters and snow being cleared out, the descent down Mount Lanayru seemed much longer than the ascent. Link was moving slowly, partly because he was recovering from extreme chill and partly because they had many more snowdrifts to plow through near the base, where the avalanche had collected. The travel was tough on Link, but he managed just fine as his gear dried and warmth returned to his bones.

_Oh, Link,_ Zelda thought. He had pinned all his hopes on the Spring of Wisdom, but it had repaid his devotion by withholding his power and threatening his life. He had nigh committed treason with the intent of returning with his kingdom’s salvation, but he looked like nothing more than a kicked puppy. They would walk back into Hyrule Castle as fugitives pleading for forgiveness.

That thought occupied Zelda all the way down until they reached the Naydra Snowfield once again, when she burst out, “Allow me to take the blame for this, Link.”

“No.” His gentle hand tugged on her elbow and pulled her to a stop. “This was my call as well as my responsibility.”

“You’ve already done that once for me,” she retorted. 

“It would be impossible for you to take the blame for this. I sneaked out of the castle and then pulled you from Impa’s custody.” His eyes glinted with a sturdiness that was new on him and very becoming. “The blame lies with me.”

When would her prince understand that it was her job to protect him? At any rate, she likely wouldn’t be the only one to make this proposal. “You’ll hear the same argument from Impa. She’ll try to protect you.”

“And she will also find it impossible.” His eyes hardened. “It is about time I start taking responsibility. I have run from it all my life, and I am keen to change that.”

Zelda’s fist clenched. “You had no privacy. You were protecting yourself.”

“It’s a prince’s job to protect everyone, not just himself.” He looked at her, and that hard glint in his eyes began to soften. “You will not change my mind, Zelda.”

Zelda knew when a battle was lost. “Very well.”

They returned to silence, though it wasn’t quite as sad as before. Now she realized how exhausted she was after descending the mountain all night, especially as the warmer temperatures soothed her aching muscles. And then she realized that the Lanayru province, with its singular path guarded by dangerous hills, was a bottleneck: if King Rhoam sent the rest of the Champions after them, they were destined to cross paths.

They reached their horses before long, who had very loyally stayed at the edge of the Snowfield. Zelda was grateful for the higher vantage point as she watched for a glimpse of the royal blue garments worn by the Champions. Going at a brisk walk, she and Link were crossing the Lanayru Promenade in the evening when Zelda spotted the silhouettes of four figures waiting up ahead. Their outlines spanned the walkway, and Zelda noticed the glint of the sun off a glimmering trident. The Champions were here, and they were armed and ready.

“Link,” she said, “can you gallop?”

His body tensed and his grip on the reins tightened. “Of course.”

“Follow my lead.” She maintained their steady walk until the Daruk, Mipha, Urbosa, and Revali came into clear view. They all looked somber but Revali seemed especially disgruntled. She locked eyes with Revali, watching and waiting and riding until she could see his pupils in the harsh glare he leveled at her.

“Hyah!” She snapped her reins and spurred her horse into a gallop. The surprised Champions scattered on instinct and Link and Zelda sailed through—!

Thunder crashed around them and startled their horses. Whinnying mightily, Zelda got bucked off and was thrown to the ground along with Link, the horses fleeing the scene at top speed. Now without transport, she leaped to her feet, drew her sword, and rushed over to the prince to guard him. “Stay back!” she warned at the Champions, who were closing in steadily.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” said Urbosa, though the scimitar at her side didn’t inspire confidence. “Please don’t make us.”

Mipha cried out, “We only want to escort you back to Hyrule Castle! You’re safe with us!”

Zelda scoffed. “For King Rhoam to imprison us and sacrifice Hyrule in the process? He’s acting in no one’s best interest, least of all his own!”

“You think we are not aware of that?” spat Urbosa. “He has been tantrumming ever since the prince stole away.” 

“But we have no choice.” Daruk’s gravelly voice was lower than usual as he exchanged a warning glance with the imposing Gerudo. “We swore to serve him and Hyrule. Disobeying him is taking the fate of Hyrule into our hands.”

“There is no fate!”

The Champions’ eyes widened. Zelda herself turned and found Prince Link climbing to his feet. Despite his bedraggled appearance, he commanded an air of proud dignity as he stood tall and firm. He continued, “We have relied on fate for far too long. Fate was meant to give me the sealing power, but it has not. Look where depending on the Goddess’ plan has brought us!”

“What are you saying?” Daruk demanded.

Link didn’t budge an inch under the Goron’s mighty stare. “I’m saying that following my father any longer will lead us to ruin.” 

“What do you know?” sneered Revali. “You’ve been just as wrapped up in yourself as King Rhoam. It may as well be a family trait.”

Link started undoing his winter coat, revealing the sacred linens he wore underneath. “I have been absent from our kingdom in my search for the sealing power, but traveling throughout it with Zelda has opened my eyes to our path to disaster. I do not pretend to know anything about the Goddess’ will, but I know that King Rhoam’s tight control on all of our movements is not the way to fight Ganon. You all said just as much yourself!”

“I’ll ask again, Prince,” said Mipha, careful thrill filling her heart-shaped face. “What are you saying?”

Link was truly Prince Link of Hyrule, radiating wisdom and authority. “I’m saying that we cannot trust my father to defend us from Ganon. I propose that the six of us band together, refuse to follow his orders, and prepare for the Calamity as we see fit.”

Revali balked. “We’ll be committing treason!”

“We’ll be saving our world!” Link gestured broadly to them. “My father will not be happy, but our peoples certainly will be. Is that not why you all became Champions? To protect our people and ward Ganon away? You five are the crux of our defenses against him, which means if you break from the king’s rule, there is nothing he can do about it. Yes, Zelda, that includes you, too.”

He looked at her, and her heart warmed. “You don’t have to convince me anymore, Link,” she said, turning to the others. “For what it’s worth, I’ve seen Link travel across Hyrule to serve his people. He has become a trustworthy, beloved leader. You must have all seen this in your own kingdoms!”

“What’s your point?” Daruk said with a frown, though the glint in his eye told a different story.

“My point is that Link can lead Hyrule into an age of peace and safety.” She met his eyes again and found that the tips of his ears had reddened. “And he is equally as essential as any of us.”

The Champions regarded them all, apprehension and hope in their faces. The first to relent was Mipha, who knelt to the ground. “I’m with you.”

Urbosa followed. “I would rather be a traitor than a corpse,” she said as she bowed her head. “And I think following you is the path to ensuring a future for our land, Your Highness.”

Another moment, and then Daruk let out a hearty laugh and bowed at the waist (since Goron anatomy did not lend well to kneeling). “Ya got a way with words, little guy! You shoulda started speakin’ up a while ago.”

As one, they all turned to Revali and waited with bated breath. Zelda rather got the impression that he enjoyed the silence he caused, all smug and puffed up as he finally knelt and said, “I’m glad you and I have similar reads on your father, Your Highness.”

Zelda beamed. They did it! The Champions were on their side—Hyrule was saved!

Link’s voice was slightly choked up when he bid them to rise. “Thank you.”

“Well, fearless leader,” said Revali, “what do you propose we do? The king knows where we are and is expecting us to return with you two. And as proficient as your appointed knight is, I doubt he will believe that four of us could not overpower her.”

“We cannot return to Hyrule Castle,” said Link. “My father has the advantage of numbers there. What is essential is that you four return to your kingdoms and secure your Divine Beasts. You will be among your own forces in your own territory, and my father will be loath to invade at a time like this. And in the future, you will ideally be able to win your peoples to our cause.”

“And what about you?” asked Daruk. “We can take refuge in our kingdoms, but you two are still His Majesty’s number one priority.”

Mipha piped up, “Perhaps we can provide you shelter.”

Link shook his head. “If the king knows you are hosting us, he will outright declare you enemies, revoke your Champion status, and storm your territories to bring us into custody. We must make ourselves as untouchable as possible so you still have access to your Divine Beasts.”

Urbosa frowned. “Then where will you go?”

“Kakariko Village. Impa is gracious and clever, and she’s been working for our cause longer than most of us knew. We will be safe there.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Revali snorted. “We can’t all hide until it’s time to strike! How are we meant to receive your orders if we’re all cast about the world?”

Link faltered slightly. “Well, perhaps once we speak to Impa we can discern a place for Zelda and I to hide near Rito Village. Then we can give you messages to take to the other Champions—”

“Ha! You expect me to act as your messenger?”

“It’s the least you could do!” Mipha retorted, flashing the sharp points of her teeth. “We all have to pull our weight.”

“Easy for you to say!”

Zelda looked at Link. The authority he’d cultivated was disappearing quickly, so she stepped in. “I agree the logistics need to be worked out, but we don’t have the time to do that right now.”

“What makes you so sure?” Revali said, rounding on her. “We may have all the time in the world!”

“Or we might have none at all!” Link retorted. “Who knows when Ganon will return?”

Thunder boomed loudly all of a sudden, powerful enough to shake the stone beneath their feet. No storm clouds hovered overhead but the air became dry and crackled with electricity. Zelda’s heart sank; her hand tightened its grip on the sword that seals the darkness.

“Revali,” Link barked, “get an eyeball on what’s happening.”

He nodded without comment and took flight, leaping into the air and soaring on an updraft of his own creation. He climbed until he was only a pinprick in the sky, hovered, and descended once again.

But by then they knew what was happening. A maroon cloud was sweeping across the sky, pink bolts of lightning crackling and swirling within it. Another thunderous booming rang out, but now Zelda could more accurately define what it was: a wretched, threatening roar.

She looked at Link again. His eyes were wide and his face was pale as he stared in horror at the spreading darkness. “It’s him,” he whispered. “It’s Ganon.”

Memories of every battlefield she had ever trod flooded her. She could feel the sweat on the back of her neck, the splash of blood from a fallen comrade on her face, the calcifying of her heart as she resigned herself to days and days of slaughter. Every time she feared picking up a sword once again, but every time she reminded herself of her duty to her kingdom and marched onward. Now the darkest hour had arrived without the sealing power or King Rhoam’s forces at their disposal. Now more than ever did she have to pick up her sword and summon every ounce of courage in her body. 

There was no time for espionage or for staging a coup. There was no time to run. This was the time to fight. The Champions had to get to their Divine Beasts and Link, the future of Hyrule Kingdom, had to be protected.

“Your Highness,” said Zelda, “we have to get you somewhere safe!”

His face changed, horror giving way to resolve. “Champions, get to your Beasts and watch the castle gates. Zelda will storm Hyrule Castle to fight Ganon, but she cannot do it alone. Keep your eyes on Ganon and strike when Zelda is near.”

“What about you?” said Zelda and Mipha at the same time.

“I will be with Zelda.”

She balked. “You should be somewhere safe!”

“I am no safer than with you.” His fist clenched as he continued, “I still don’t know what will grant me my powers, but if there is the slimmest chance of unlocking them on the battlefield, then I will come with you.”

“It’s too dangerous!”

“As though you are not in the same danger!”

“I’m a trained knight!”

_“You_ trained me!”

“Hardly the same—”

“Enough, Zelda!” He drew himself up to his full height. “This is not up for discussion. I am going with you and that is final.”

Memories of bloodshed splashed across her mind again. Link knew he was walking into annihilation and refused to turn away. He was as confident as every rookie heading into their first bloodbath. 

“Very well.” She sheathed her sword and bit back every retort on her lips. “We have no time to lose.”

“I agree.” He turned to the Champions. “To your Beasts. Stay safe and sharp.”

They bowed their heads to him. Then the group took off as one along the Lanayru Promenade to face Ganon and save the world.


	12. Despair

Zelda and Link galloped across Hyrule Field’s rolling hills, forsaking the winding paths packed with Castle Town refugees. Zelda spotted Cremia’s wagon crammed with people rattling along, screaming to spur the horses faster and outrun Ganon’s newly-forged foot soldiers.

The Guardians had turned against them. Somehow Ganon had infected the ancient Sheikah warriors and swayed them to his side; the creatures that had ensured their safety were now the e ones destroying it. They crawled among the flaming structures of Castle Town, telescoping legs picking across the torched rooftops as their beady glowing eyes sought out their next victim. 

Castle Town, once both bustling and quaint, was a war zone. A crowd of Guardians monitored the town’s entrance as Zelda and Link neared. Zelda watched a refugee on horseback try to skirt one; in a matter of seconds, he was nothing but ash. They’d never get through there, even with horsepower on their side. 

“This way!” Zelda peeled away towards the east where the Hyrule Cathedral awaited them, cutting the Guardians a wide berth on their way. With a dose of luck, they could slip past the Guardians on foot via the cathedral and make their way up to the castle.

The castle. Hyrule Castle was crumbling as the mechanical monsters swarmed the grounds and surrounding skies to tear it asunder. It was wreathed in Ganon’s crackling cloud, which had assumed the shape of a boar’s head complete with tusks and a pair of glowing pink eyes. Its roar was enough to shatter the ground itself. The red sights of the Divine Beasts were trained on the castle and awaiting the right moment to strike. Every now and then Zelda could see the glint of a sword in one of the castle’s arched windows, but knights emerged from it sparingly and never with the king in tow. If Link had come to that certain realization, he did not say.

They arrived at Hyrule Cathedral, whose insides were empty of survivors and whose stained-glass windows were blown out. Zelda dismounted her horse and called out to the prince, “We’ll have an easier time sneaking past the Guardians if we’re on foot.”

Link obeyed but uncertainty rolled off him in waves. “We won’t be able to escape without them.”

“Horses couldn’t outrun them anyway.” She drew the sword that seals the darkness. “But smaller targets will be able to find better cover. Let’s move.”

They ran into the empty cathedral. Shards of the stained-glass windows littered the ground and half-buried a few unlucky souls that had been trampled to death. In here, too, a sword’s blade stood abandoned in the wreckage, planted firmly in the ground. “Look!” Link cried, rushing ahead and pulling the sword free. 

A bright blue beam burst from the firelight and soared into the roof of the cathedral, cutting through wood and slate and tearing a hole above their heads. Debris rained down on them as another beam cut clean through the foundation of the stone steeple. It tipped and fell straight towards Link.

Zelda threw herself at Link as the steeple came crashing down and brought the roof down with it. She pinned his body under hers and shielded him from the brunt of the blows as Hyrule Cathedral collapsed around them, entombing them in its ruins. 

“Zelda?” he choked out.

“Hush!”

She heard the metallic _shinkshinkshink_ and mechanical whirring as a Guardian investigated nearby. It crawled closer and closer, displacing the rubble and destroying their cover; Zelda could picture that glowing blue eye sweeping the wreckage for any sign of life. She strained to keep Link silent and still so they would remain undetected, but he trembled and thrashed in her arms while begging her for answers she didn’t have.

“What’s happening?” he pleaded, pushing against her shoulders. His hands found her arms and tried to pry them apart. His movements shifted the rubble around them enough to provide a clear view to the clawed Guardian foot that stood a mere eighteen inches away. He was panicking, like a brave-faced rookie going into his first bloodbath. “Are we going to survive?”

“Shut up!” 

“Tell me!”

A gargantuan, divine roar hit their ears and swept across all of Hyrule. It was the low, pained exclamation of Divine Beast Vah Rudania; for all its mechanical and technological components, Zelda had never doubted the presence of a soul in the creature, and she knew they had just heard its dying cry.

Link knew it, too. “No!” he cried, his eyes glistening.

The Guardian claw shifted in her periphery, seeming to turn towards the source of Link’s shout. Zelda was pinned by the detritus and unable to stop Link’s frantic screaming. There was only one thing to do.

She planted her mouth over his, capturing him in a kiss.

He went as quiet and still as a stone. Zelda’s heart pounded as the Guardian lingered there, its claws twitching in anticipation, until another great roar originating from the southwest grabbed its attention. It skittered away quickly to investigate.

Zelda tore away from Link and then started unearthing them from their hiding place. “My deepest apologies, Your Highness,” she said hoarsely. “We were going to be killed if I could not keep you quiet.”

“Of course.” Of _what_ course? “I was hysterical.”

“Understandably.” She shoved a splintered wooden beam off them and then cried out as pain shot through her, originating from a deep ache in her side. Her body crumpled but Link reached up to catch her. “I—I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Now that they could move, he carefully pulled them both from the rubble. She groaned as he manipulated her aching body until they were free once again. She climbed to her feet and tried to look around, but she was still unsteady and faint. Link came to her rescue, pulling her arm across his shoulders. “Lean on me.”

She let out another groan. “This doesn’t bode well.”

“You’re just a little scrambled,” he said, though the worry was unmistakable in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll bounce back soon. Shall we get going?”

“We should figure out what that roar was first,” she said despite the sinking feeling in her stomach.

He gestured with his chin to hole in the cathedral roof, which allowed them a view of the darkening sky.

Only three of the Divine Beasts’ shining red sights remained. The one that corresponded to Vah Rudania was gone, and the one that signaled Vah Naboris’ readiness in Gerudo was wavering greatly until it blinked out of existence right before their eyes. Link’s voice quieted to a low murmur, the words too terrible to say aloud. “You don’t think?”

She nodded grimly. “Daruk and Urbosa have fallen.”

His hand tightened on hers as his jaw set firmly. “We have to hurry or else our window to strike will close.”

“Agreed.” She pulled her weight off him, picked up her fallen sword, and stalked towards the town thoroughfare. But even as they walked from one side of Hyrule Cathedral to the other, Zelda watched the other two Divine Beast sights vanish from the sky: Vah Medoh’s swung wildly away from the castle while Vah Ruta’s faded away into nothing.

Zelda’s heart chilled as the mechanisms in her body responsible for movement ground to a halt. The Champions had fallen. The Divine Beasts were lost, and Hyrule Castle wasn’t far behind. Castle Town was empty except for the possessed Guardians and their casualties. She and Link were the only ones left to fight against Ganon.

“It’s over,” he breathed. “It’s all over.”

“No, it’s not,” she replied, staring down the eastern thoroughfare. Hyrule was not lost as long as she stood strong. “I can keep going. Are you with me?”

“Zelda, you can’t.”

“Are you with me?”

She turned to him and stood as tall as her aching body would allow. “We have to fight for our kingdom. There’s no one left but us!”

He straightened up to his full height as well. That hard glint returned to his eye, but this time she felt its full force. “I have to think about preserving my kingdom however I can, and that includes fleeing when necessary. As your prince, I order you to flee with me to Fort Hateno.”

She scoffed. “You can’t order me away from this. This is why I became a Champion! This is why I carry the Master Sword! This is why I was appointed as your knight!”

“We hardly had a hope without my sealing power!” he fired back, gesturing to the castle. “Going in there without the Champions is suicide!”

“Then why were you so eager to throw your life away on Mount Lanayru? We have to keep fighting—we can’t let Ganon win!”

At the top of his lungs, he yelled, “I can’t let you die!”

A wealth of words and feelings passed between them that she could not quite define but nonetheless understood. Their deep trust in and devotion to one another inextricably bound them together. There was something eternal about their bond—maybe the prince and knight of long ago were speaking through them now. 

“The world is crashing down around us,” said Link. “You and I are the only ones left who can secure a future for Hyrule. I need you to flee with me, so we have a chance of seeing that future. If I can be frank, Zelda, I am acting selfishly.”

She frowned. “Protecting your kingdom’s future isn’t selfish.”

“What is selfish is that I want to ensure your place in that future.” He looked at her more earnestly and openly than he ever had. No more masks, no more lies, no more courtly filters guarding his speech. Link was speaking purely from his heart. “I cannot imagine Hyrule without you. I will already be forced to move through it without my father and our Champions; I am afraid of going forward without you.”

Zelda felt the ghost of his kiss upon her lips. “Was this because of—”

“I knew this long before that.” He stepped closer to her. “Flee with me. Neither of us stand a chance against Ganon alone. You need my sealing power and I need your courage. If we flee to Fort Hateno and regroup with whatever remains of our military, we might have a real shot of defeating Ganon.”

His lip trembled. His eyes shone. “Please. I ask you not as your prince, but as your friend.”

Over the course of their relationship, she had watched him blossom into an assertive, courageous, and self-assured ruler, which was why she knew he was right. One of them had to think things through, and he had come to the conclusion that they had no shot of defeating Ganon like this. Her duty had called her to this task, but now it called for her to run away. 

She glanced over her shoulder. Guardians were creeping closer and closer to the cathedral ruins. “Let’s hurry,” she said. “We have no time to lose.”

So, they ran, hand in hand, from Ganon’s onslaught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we get an F in the chat fellas


	13. Link's Awakening

In retrospect, Link was shocked they ever made it as far as the Dueling Peaks. 

Their horses had been scared off in Castle Town, so he and Zelda were forced to flee on foot. Zelda was giving her all, sprinting alongside him despite her wounds and insisting they not rest: “We need to get to Fort Hateno. We can rest when we’re safe.”

All her focus relied on saving her strength to fight which meant navigating was left up to him. Between his diplomatic duties and sneaking his swordplay lessons, he had thoroughly studied the virtues of the Sheikah Slate and knew Hyrule’s landscape well enough to guide them to the right paths.

“Link,” panted Zelda as they trod the uneven path alongside Crenel Peak, “we can make it to Kakariko from here, can’t we? This’ll take us straight toward it. We’ll be safe there.”

He shook his head. “We would have to scale a sheer cliff if we tried to enter Kakariko from this direction. That cliff’s what makes it so safe, but neither of us are in any condition to climb it.”

“Hmm.” She nodded, though there was something else on her face that, despite his perceptive prowess, he could not figure out. He asked, “What are you thinking?”

“How proud I am of you.” She shot him a grin hampered by her pained wince. “A regular survivalist, huh?”

He felt the tips of his ears heat up. “Just a quick study.”

Her smile vanished suddenly. Her head whipped around towards the base of Crenel Peak and she said, “Start running.”

A Guardian crawled out from behind an outcropping and sped toward them. Link sprinted away, finding cover behind a gargantuan fallen tree trunk in time to watch Zelda run at it at top speed, slashing her sword in great, wide arcs. First one telescoping leg sprang away as she sliced clean through it, and then another, and another until Zelda had toppled the behemoth over, exposing it the shining blue core hidden at its base. She plunged her sword into the core, hacking away at it until the Guardian exploded in a burst of shining blue light.

Zelda returned to his side, sheathed her sword, and said, “We should hurry.”

“I—” _I will always be captivated by your ability to fight._ “I agree.”

Then she took his hand and together they ran down the path toward Fort Hateno.

Their path took them south past the Lanayru Wetlands and Batrea Lake, where they would take the pass between the Dueling Peaks. This journey would have taken them a full day in ordinary circumstances but fleeing for one’s life did wonders for cutting down travel time, he thought wryly. And then the taste in his mouth soured because he realized that was something his father might think, and then his stomach knotted while he remembered his father had likely been slain when Ganon possessed the castle.

Link’s heart ached. The king was a strict father and unforgiving leader. Link had often felt he had failed his father as both prince and son; now as Hyrule crumbled under their feet, it was difficult to argue that assertion. He had never accessed the sacred sealing power. He had given his kingdom to ruin. As well as Link knew his father had treated him unkindly, he could not bring himself to be relieved he was gone, especially if his passing came through Link’s inaction. His father thought him a failure, and Link was unable to prove him wrong.

Link and Zelda climbed the hill that guarded the path to the Dueling Peaks pass into Necluda proper. Their crossing so far had been largely without incident—more flying than fighting—but now he saw why: the Guardians were flooding into the pass from the southern quadrant of Hyrule Field, climbing over themselves in their hurry to conquer the kingdom. Passing through here was impossible: if they managed to get anywhere close to the path without catching a Guardian’s eye, the sheer number of them clogging the pass would crush them to death. He turned to her and said, “We have to go around the mountain if we want a hope of making it to Fort Hateno. Zelda?”

She lay against the hill’s gentle slope, eyes closing and breaths labored. The journey had tired her and prevented any modicum of first aid from her copious injuries, but there was still no end in sight. “Zelda,” he whispered as he knelt beside her, his hand gently shaking her shoulder. She stirred and blinked up at him with cloudy eyes.

“What is it?”

“We have to go around the mountain.”

She sighed. “Is there no other way?”

“No. I’m sorry.” This thumb stroked her shoulder. “I cannot thank you enough for your bravery and endurance. I would not be here without you.”

She sighed again. “I will take you to Fort Hateno,” she promised, “if it’s the last thing I do. But perhaps we miscalculated our need for rest.”

“Maybe we did.”

They climbed to their feet. “Maybe we can rest once we’re hidden in the mountains,” he said.

“Only if there’s a resting place protected enough.”

They picked up their march and started around the Dueling Peaks. They were both pretty beaten and withered from their trip up Mount Lanayru (was that really yesterday?) but Zelda was in terrible shape: she was pockmarked and scarred from saving his life in Hyrule Cathedral, by fending off Guardians, by putting herself in danger for his sake.

Hyrule had asked so much of her—its citizens, its king, and its prince all had wild expectations for her. She had exceeded all of them and continued to do so even as her body gave out. What an indominable spirit. What incredible courage.

They marched as the sun set and the fires roared across Hyrule Field. Link watched as his kingdom, his responsibility, go up in smoke. How many were dead? How many others would die as a result of his flight? Even the indominable Zelda was withering away before his eyes, yet it took her losing her footing three times to agree to rest.

“Here,” said Link, guiding Zelda to a flat stretch of ground guarded by Mable Ridge. “We won’t be hurt here.”

“How—how do you know?” she panted, surveying the area sharply as ever. “It’s easy for us to reach in this state. Guardians will find us no problem.”

“We’ll hear them if they come this way.” He sat down and finally stripped off the sweat-soaked winter gear he still wore, revealing his sacred white linens underneath. “Don’t make me order you to lie down.”

“Very well.” She unbuckled her weapon harness and let it fall to the ground, darkness-sealing sword and all; but as she walked over to him, she stumbled over her own tired feet and tripped. He did not consciously decide, but he acted on instinct when he reached out and caught her, lowering her to the ground gently. She always adhered so strictly to courtly chivalry, but she did not object to when he pulled her into his arms, so exhausted by their journey.

From here they could see Hyrule Castle, lit starkly against the night sky by the fires that engulfed it. Every emotion had raged within him these past two days—happiness and thrill at defying his father outright; crushing disappointment when the Spring of Wisdom did not bring the salvation he so dearly craved; pride when he managed to win the Champions to his cause; and grief when Ganon arose and razed his home. He had felt so much in this last span of time that now he felt nothing but wrung out.

He looked at Zelda, who was already half-asleep. He felt wrung out and grateful and lucky and, perhaps perversely, happy. He had lost so much, but he was glad he managed to salvage her from the flames. If anyone had a chance of rebuilding the kingdom after this, it was certainly him and Zelda. Zelda, who had the common sense, intelligence, tact, and compassion to lead their restoration. 

“You’ve done enough today,” he murmured. “I’ll keep watch.”

She shook her head but did not lift it from where he cradled it against his chest. “No, Link, I’m your knight—”

“Please.”

Zelda met his eyes with bitten lip, studying him and his ability, and then sighed. “Okay, Your Highness.”

He shook his head as she pulled away from him and lay down, leaving an empty chill in the space her body rested against him. “Don’t do that. I’m no prince up here.” In this little plateau high above a burning Hyrule, he was the herald of destruction, a prince of failure. “I could not stop the Calamity. I am worthless.”

“You’re not!” She shot upright, glaring at him with unrestrained emotion. Her head wavered a little drunkenly, but her eyes were clear as ever. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but His Majesty did a terrible job of raising you!”

He gasped but she plowed on. “To twist you up into thinking wielding the sealing power was your only purpose! Negligent, unloving, and cruel! He’s the one who sacrificed Hyrule because he never trusted you from the beginning!”

He gaped at her. “Zelda—” 

“He made you so afraid of failing that you were willing to commit treason to circumvent him! That’s not what a good father does, and definitely not how a good king acts! It is his fault that Hyrule fell—squarely his and no one else’s! You’re worth so much more than what he ever made you feel.”

The storm of words stopped. She looked utterly winded. “Forgive me, Link,” she said, eyes fluttering. “I needed you to know that.”

Before he could say anything, she lay down, closed her eyes, and promptly fell asleep. Maybe if she stayed awake a minute more, he would have told her how she had become his guiding light and the closest friend in his life. He would have told her how much he admired her strength, tenacity, and understanding of her own vulnerability. She had studied parts of herself that he had never had the courage to confront, and he had endlessly adored that quality in her.

He adored her. A simple truth that he had also never fully understood. She had extended trust to him when he had proven himself untrustworthy. She was patient in waiting for him to open up to her and closely guarded his secret until his father forced it out of him.

That, too. Link knew he had made grave missteps, but his father had created an environment of espionage and distrust that made secrecy Link’s only option for a grain of personhood. If Zelda had continued training Link, would he have accessed the sealing power? Training with her had felt so natural and easy, and somehow that feeling of comfort in one’s own ability felt connected to his understanding the Goddess. His mother had said that, as the first-born of the royal line and the former vessel of the Goddess’ power, learning to access and wield it had felt like relearning an old instinct despite never having known the feeling before.

Link was certain of very little. However, as his thoughts drifted back to the state of Zelda’s injuries and the light Zelda had brought into his life, he became certain of one thing.

The hours passed uneventfully as Link thought long and hard about that one certainty. The fires in Castle Town began to die down and the flights of refugees slowed. It was only as dawn was just beginning to break over Walnot Mountain he heard the scraping of mechanical claws up the mountainside.

Zelda was already shooting to her feet before he could extend an arm to shake her awake. Her slumber had done her some good, or so it appeared as she unsheathed her sword and ran towards the edge of their plateau just in time to lop the claw off the Guardian leg. He heard it skitter down the mountainside as Zelda turned around and screamed, “Run!”

Link had run all his life. He refused to abandon Zelda now.

He picked up his own sword and ran towards the cliffside just as another leg rose to take the place of its neighbor. He planted his feet, tensed his grip, and, in one great, powerful swing, sliced through the second leg, sending it clattering down the mountain. A second Guardian reached their resting place and tried to heave itself over the edge, but he and Zelda managed to cleave away enough legs to keep them dangling, unable to reach their destination. His and Zelda’s eyes met, and she smiled, and he paused.

A Guardian leg shot out, seized Zelda around the middle, and lifted her in the air. Her arms were pinned so she could not lift her sword. The claw squeezed hard; Link heard bones crack and saw blood spurt from Zelda’s body, staining the bright blue of her tunic. Her face was twisted up in pain—and then it went blank as her consciousness was leeched from her.

“No!”

Link tossed his sword aside as a natural instinct welled up in him, triggering a mechanism in his shoulder that propelled his arm upward and pointed his open hand at the Guardian. A surge of holy light burst forth, pouring outward from every fiber of his being. It swallowed the Guardians whole, including the third one that had climbed its brothers and seized Zelda. It lit up the early-dawn sky, shining as bright as the sun as clouds of maroon mist fluttered about the Guardians until they evaporated. The robots darkened and started to slide down the mountain, now lifeless. The claw released Zelda and she fell to the ground in a heap from which she did not stir.

As the dazzling light faded, Link saw the sacred royal emblem shining on the back of his hand. The Triforce had appeared, the herald of the sacred sealing power.

Link ran to Zelda and pulled her into his arms. “Ow,” she said, so quietly that he almost didn’t catch it. Her body was broken and bloody, arms resting at odd angles and chest heaving unevenly. The sparkle in her eyes he so treasured was fading away. His power had come but not fast enough. “Zelda!”

She met his eyes and her face softened. She smiled at him, pride and relief and admiration, and then her eyes closed and her body went limp in his arms.

Link didn’t know how long he knelt there. He couldn’t let go of Zelda, couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t muster the courage to fight Ganon and save Hyrule. His courage lay spent in his arms. How could he part from her side?

“Prince!”

Link’s head snapped upward. Three Sheikah warriors were climbing over the edge of their plateau and coming towards him. Link scrambled for his sword and held it out. The leading Sheikah lowered her mask: it was Impa, elder of Kakariko Village. They knelt as one and bowed their heads. He saw dazzled pride in Impa’s face, too, but there were more dire matters to attend to than congratulating a prince! “Prince Link, we saw the light of your awakening and followed it here. We came to assist you, sir, but we are able to help your knight. There’s a way to save her.”

His arm tightened on her protectively. “How?”

“An ancient Sheikah medical facility. It’s hidden in the Great Plateau. It is powerful enough to save her life, but only if we act quickly.”

“How long will it take?”

Impa faltered. “We cannot say. It may take years, or even decades, until she awakens.”

Link lowered his eyes to Zelda’s face. He memorized the curve of her lips and the gold of her hair, but he had already caught his last glimpse of her wondrous smile and unshakable compassion.

He looked to Hyrule Castle, glowing like an ember in the dawn light. “Take her,” he ordered. “Hurry to this Shrine and ensure she is watched over. I will go fight to hold Ganon back, but Zelda’s survival is tantamount to saving Hyrule. Do I make myself clear?”

Impa nodded. “Yes, Prince.”

“Good. We must hurry. Zelda’s life and the fate of the kingdom is in your hands!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big oof! Next week we're gonna catch Link and Zelda up to present day. Who knows what's gonna happen next?


	14. Sealed Fate

_Present Day_

With her orders from Impa and an aching desire to learn more of the prince, Zelda set on her course to rescue Hyrule Kingdom. She cleared away Ganon’s forces strewn throughout the kingdom with unexpected expertise and ease, but she grew more comfortable in her skills as she freed the Divine Beasts and, in turn, the Champions who had died within their walls. Like the memories, the Champions offered her clues to her former life in the few moments they tarried in the mortal world. They each swore fealty to the prince instead of Hyrule, and _Zelda_ as well, which struck Zelda as odd. Why not to the kingdom? Why not to the king?

On the bridge leading to the magnificent Zora’s Domain, she saw the prince beg her to train in swordplay and she acquiesced, eager to make him happy. She sensed that this was the real start of their partnership, and that it had come after a lot of trials and patience. _I was his friend. The prince didn’t have many._

She crisscrossed Hyrule from its bustling markets to its barren wastelands. She extracted any scrap of who she used to be from the few who had survived since the Great Calamity. What a name for what had happened—it hardly encompasses the abject terror of Ganon’s rise and the absolute certainty that Hyrule would fall. People would talk about Prince Link’s admirable efforts to restrain Ganon and then turn around and speak of their grandparents’ distrust for the crown. Judging by the unpleasant lurch in her stomach whenever King Rhoam’s name came up, Zelda seemed to share that distrust, but why? 

At first, she thought she got her answer when she recovered the memory in Rito Village. Prince Link confessed his inability to wield the sacred sealing power. Only the two of them knew of his failing, and she could remember suppressing the urge to run through the upward-spiraling Rito Village to alert anyone who could hear her. But she kept his secret because he finally trusted her, and she refused to betray that trust at its first great test. She preserved her friendship, but she may have sacrificed Hyrule to do it. _The Great Calamity was my fault._

The other memories did not disprove her hypothesis. Those that were left demonstrated a willingness to follow the prince wherever he went and do whatever he asked. Even the gathering of the Champions at the base of Mount Lanayru did little to assuage her fears. They all spoke like rebels and traitors who took the law into their own hands, allowing destruction to rain on innocents. They behaved like despots and held their country’s future hostage! What right did they have to be Champions? _We were arrogant._

For the longest time, Zelda did not understand how she could have rationalized such behavior. It was only when she arrived in Hyrule Castle town to start to penetrate the heart of the Calamity that the urges of her own heart became clear.

Hyrule Cathedral was nothing but a heap of stone and worn footpaths where people once knelt. The memory of kissing the prince and then fighting with him created further questions of who she used to be. She was deeply devoted to the prince, of course, and cared about his safety and happiness, but even though that kiss in the moment was meant to shut him up, there was more to it than that. Perhaps she could not see it one hundred years ago as they prepared for war, but she was learning it now. _I would do anything for Prince Link._

Only when she entered Hyrule Castle did she learn the truth. The castle was a vault that locked away the most important parts of the story and the reasons that drove her, the prince, and the other Champions to would-be treason. Hyrule Castle contained a distrustful, angry king who relied on espionage and fear to control his kingdom. Zelda watched as the prince cowered under his father’s words and begged to be allowed to enjoy spare time. She remembered how little King Rhoam trusted his own son when he slyly deputized Zelda to act as his spy, a duty she was happy to break. She remembered when she first spoke to the prince at the ball and how he wanted to see her dance, impressed by her ability to learn. Did he remember that after all this time from the heart of Hyrule Castle? Did he remember how she tried to save him from his father? _I loved the prince—did he know?_

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” she said as she exited the ruins of the castle’s ballroom. “I’ll be back soon, but I need to see Impa.”

Having visited the locations of the Slate’s twelve images, Zelda raced back to Kakariko Village to consult with Impa, who was eager to discuss the days leading up to the Great Calamity. The king’s lack of compassion, Impa’s own role in the budding rebellion, and the reason she strayed from the king’s side.

“I saw your faith in the prince,” said Impa. “Few had put such trust in him before. Expectations, yes, but rarely faith. And when you trusted him, he became a competent swordsman. I knew it then as clearly as I know it now: you were the key to his powers.”

Zelda frowned. “Was I?”

Impa nodded solemnly. “Yes. There is one final place you must visit. I did not tell you of this place because this will be the most difficult memory for you to recover.”

The knight did not hesitate. “Tell me.”

The next day, Zelda was scaling the Dueling Peaks. She had felt herself pulled back to them time and time again during her travels, whether she was crossing Ash Swamp or attacking Death Mountain. Something had happened to her here, and it was great and terrible. Only now did she have a reason strong enough to divert her from the prince’s rescue: to find out who she was to that very prince.

She ascended Mable Ridge and arrived at a flat stretch of ground. Dangling off one side of this little plateau was a destroyed shell of a Guardian. Several Guardian limbs were scattered around, rusted and weathered with time. Its claws were torn apart as though cast off in a scuffle—a fight—

And all of a sudden, Zelda relived her death.

She collapsed to the ground, arms wrapping around her middle to ward off those mighty claws. She could feel the crunching of her bones as the Guardian crushed her, heart pounding and head lightening. And then the prince’s sacred sealing power burst forth, resplendent and beautiful and righteous. The Guardian released her, she crashed to the ground, she gazed into the prince’s eyes for the last time. Then Impa was there, and the prince—Link went to fight Ganon! _Link was able to harness his powers in time to save me._

Zelda did not hesitate as she leaped to her feet, whipped out her paraglider, and sailed once again towards Hyrule Castle. Link was fighting one hundred years to buy her time. He had waited long enough. 

She plumbed the depths of Hyrule Castle, battling monsters and Malice as she cleansed the once-great spectacle of the kingdom. In a past life she had walked these halls, eaten at these tables, read these books—Ganon had taken enough from both Link and her. It was time they took it back.

She reached the throne room where Ganon had imprisoned Link all these years in a disgusting sac constructed from appropriated Sheikah technology. “Zelda!” that plaintive voice cried out, the same she heard in the Shrine of Resurrection. She knew the owner of the voice so much better now. Her heart ached as he said, “I fought so long, but I’m not strong enough!”

“I promise you, Link,” called Zelda as she drew the sword that seals the darkness, “this fight will be over soon.”

With the assistance of the ever-loyal Champions, Zelda fought Ganon first in the bowels of the castle and then in the Hyrule Field. She fought with all the strength and courage she possessed, the Master Sword gleaming against this incarnation of hatred. The Champions struck with the Divine Beasts, delivering mighty blows to Ganon to avenge their own deaths. Link worked to help her, too, pulling back Ganon’s defenses when his strength allowed. Zelda had the sword, but Link had the power, and together they subdued Ganon enough for Link to tear free from the beast’s hold.

Link looked as magnificent as the day Zelda last saw him. He was awash in golden light as Ganon, now nothing but smoke and electricity, roiled and tumbled in the sky as he prepared one final strike. Zelda spurred her horse towards the scuffle, but Link was the picture of courage as he lifted his hand to the sky to meet Ganon’s roaring mouth. Golden light flowed from his palm and lit up the entirety of Hyrule as it chased the Calamity high into the skies. Ganon tried to flee, but the light was too fast and too powerful. The struggle of the last century coalesced in one blazing moment as Ganon was vaporized in the blast.

Zelda dismounted and ran towards Link as the light faded. He turned around slowly, his posture stiff and his face manicured to be blank. “Hello, knight Zelda.”

He was nervous again. After vanquishing Ganon, there was only one thing left for him to be afraid of, so she put him at ease right away. “I remember you, Link. I still have some big gaps, but you—I could never forget you.”

His lovely blue eyes lit up and his stance relaxed. His body looked tired, every bit the harrowed fighter leaving the battlefield for the last time, but his face was bright with joy. “I waited so long to hear you say that.”

They ran towards each other and met in a firm embrace, falling to their ground in their exhaustion. They giggled like children in each other’s arms, caught in the adrenaline of having achieved the monumental task set before them all that time ago. They were heroes, they were the knight and prince of legend, and they were true friends whose reunion was long overdue.

Long after they caught their breath, Link fixed her with one of those far-off looks that were designed to look blank while disguising an active mind. “What is it?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I have to admit that, after all these years, I’m excited to lie in a bed again.”

She laughed and then rose to her feet. “I feel the same. There’s a stable not far from here. Shall we?”

She held her hand out to him. He took it and pulled himself up, casting a long, thoughtful look at the castle. That had been his prison for so long, held captive both by his father and by Ganon, and now…

He nodded decisively. “Let’s go.”

Zelda was traveling once again, but this time she had Link at her side. He was more talkative than ever and just as motivated, poring over the Slate as he drew up the route to their next destination. Their current destination was Kakariko Village, where Impa would be overjoyed to see the prince once again. Night had fallen faster than expected, so they set up camp in a clearing by a cliff near the place Zelda first met Hestu the Korok bard. Kakariko Village was not far, but Link was tired and Zelda was inclined to give him as much rest as he wanted.

“Zora’s Domain should be our next stop,” she said, returning to the campfire after checking their perimeter once again. 

“I agree,” he said. “Many of them still remember us, and they can vouch for me as I campaign to return to the throne.”

“Campaign?” asked Zelda, brow furrowed. “You’re already the crown prince. Your seat is secured.”

“Yes, but the crown’s legacy is one of inefficacy. The last king used anger on me and secrecy on the rest of Hyrule, and Ganon’s rise was the result.” He gazed deeply into the fire. “Convincing them to trust his son will be a tall task.”

“I don’t think it’s as hard as you think it’ll be,” she said. “After all, you were able to restrain Ganon for an entire century. That’s not nothing.”

He shot her a coy smile. “Wasn’t it you who told me I was more than my sealing power?” His face fell suddenly, and he amended, “Sorry, I know you said you had some big gaps in your memory still.”

She shook her head. “I remember something like that. I think. I can remember chunks of what happened, but I’m having difficulty putting them back in order.”

“Can I ask what you remember so far?” His body had gone still again and his face was a mask, but the firelight clearly showed what he was: afraid.

She put him at ease. “I remember that I loved you.”

His eyes widened. He had expected her to remember things, but not that particular thing. She plowed on. “I always maintained that you would be a good king, and that was because I knew you were a good man straining to get out from under your father’s thumb.”

She had trained as a knight all her life, but Link’s plea for trust had broken through all her training like she was a newbie. He made it so easy to disobey Hyrule’s highest authority. “It took me disobeying the king to realize that I would do anything for you.”

“I-Isn’t that a knight’s job?”

She laughed. “Always so suspicious. Look at me, Link. Use that wonderful perception on me right now.” She aligned herself before him and gazed squarely at him. “Tell me what you see.”

His gaze bored deeply into her, poring over the furthest corners of her mind to seek the truth. He leaned forward, inching tantalizingly closer and closer, head cocked to one side. He looked so, so handsome.

After a long, interminable moment, he smiled. It was radiant. “You love me.”

“Do you trust me now?”

He bit his lip. Zelda’s heart fluttered—did her heart always flutter whenever he did that? 

“I was going to wait until you had more of your memories,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, “but I’ve had some things I wanted to say for a long time as well, if you would like to hear them.”

Her heart thudded against her ribs. “Of course.”

“I watched you while you embarked on your quest,” he said, “which is how I know Impa told you her suspicions concerning the acquisition of those powers.”

“You always had them,” Zelda said loyally.

“What matters is that Impa was right. I needed you to teach me trust and patience, especially to trust and be patient with myself. Of all the luxuries a prince has, I was never exposed to those. It took you entering my life for me to realize how terrible that was.” An uncertain smile lifted his lips. “In short, you taught me to love myself.”

He sighed. “I’ve waited a long time to say that to you as well. And one more thing, if you’ll permit it.”

She inched even closer to him. Their folded legs were nearly touching at the knees. “Of course.”

He took her hand as gently as though she were made of porcelain. “In learning to love myself, I fell in love with you. I do not know when it happened, but I’ve been utterly certain of it for the past century.”

He pressed the most delicate of kisses to the back of her hand. “I understand that this may be overwhelming for you, so if you would like time—”

“May I kiss you?”

He smiled. She could swear it lit up the world. “Of course.”

Her hand cradled his face, a face that was so practiced in hiding the mind’s inner machinations but now only showed his joy and devotion. He used to be so closed off and in pain but now he blazed with confidence and courage. Was that her influence?

Their lips met in the firelight. They were delicate and slow at first; after all, they were both fragile and broken after fending off the Calamity. But then he became more assertive and she more supple, and her hands were in his hair and his lips were at her neck.

They pulled away to catch their breath, surprised at their electrifying closeness but none too bothered by it. Grinning at him, she asked, “I didn’t expect to, uh, do this. and I don’t really know what to do next.”

He grinned coyly in exactly the way she remembered, in exactly the way she loved. “I know what we should do.”

“Oh, really?”

“I’m certain. We should go to the Lomei Labyrinths.”

“Wha—?” The magical feeling disappeared, but she couldn’t be bothered to climb out of his embrace. “Why?”

“I don’t know if you remember this,” he said, his hand stroking circles in the small of her back, “but I once made a vow to you that, once Hyrule was safe and Ganon was gone, I would take you to the labyrinths. You were fascinated by them, and after all you had done for me in the castle, I figured it would make a nice leisure trip.”

His face started to fall. “If you don’t remember or just aren’t ready, I understand. I figured we would go only once we had a decent rest in Kakariko Village, of course. Whenever you like.”

She kissed him again, tender and sweet. “After Kakariko Village,” she said. “You’ll need to be reacquainted with Hyrule as well. I’ve had a whole year to do it. Surely we can fit those visits in between your ascension campaign.”

He beamed at her. “Thank you, Zelda. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Ganon was vanquished and their destinies were complete. They would still be prince and knight, but they were freer now that their weightier expectations were off their shoulders. They could be free. They could be in love.

Zelda felt that same pull that tugged at her heart around the Dueling Peaks, but she felt it tugging her towards Link. Perhaps the prince and knight of ten thousand years ago had fallen in love, too, because their love felt strong despite its infancy. Maybe this love was also part of their destiny.

In that case, Zelda was glad their fate was sealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading to the end! I'd love to hear what you think in the comments, especially your favorite moments from the fic!


End file.
